chsdbacks Chapter 94, Section 93: The Chosen One, Insane Lessons!
Chapter 94, Section 93: The Chosen One, Insane Lessons!
Forest ban.
Just after Ian and Aurora were taken away by the house-elf Rabi.
Just a few minutes later, a steady and powerful clatter of hooves sounded rapidly, and a burly centaur leader led seven or eight centaurs to the deserted scene of the incident.
The air still faintly carried the scent of magic and blood.
All centaurs are on high alert.
It was clear that the house-elf Rabbi's suggestion to leave quickly was not meant to scare the young wizard; the centaur tribes in the Forbidden Forest almost universally considered it their territory.
These creatures have a centaur-like appearance; their upper bodies are human, while their lower bodies are horse-like.
It belongs to the XXXX-level magical creatures classified by the Ministry of Magic.
With their robust physique, agile movements, outstanding magic resistance and magical abilities, coupled with their tribal lifestyle, few wizards could single-handedly confront such a tribe.
"The commotion just now came from here. There was a fierce battle between a human wizard and some kind of creature." One of the centaurs stepped out from the group to investigate.
Despite possessing intelligence not much different from humans, the centaurs still consider themselves to be "beasts" because they do not want to share human identity with creatures such as she-devils and vampires.
"I saw evil black magic—…Fiendfire—…and a bright light."
The centaurs who stepped forward knelt down at the spot where the Winged Demon had died a gruesome death, examining the pile of ashes where the Winged Demon had been cut into eight pieces and then killed by Aurora's Fiendfire.
Such special species possess abilities that human wizards cannot fully comprehend.
For example, centaurs possess an exceptional talent for divination, often making vague predictions about the future. They use a method of divination different from humans, observing the stars and interpreting natural phenomena to predict the future.
"Human wizards are always so despicable! They trespass into our territory and use evil dark magic to slaughter the creatures of the Forbidden Forest! We should declare war on the humans in that castle!"
Some indignant radicals shouted in the ranks, attempting to destroy the entire tribe. Fortunately, the tribe's leader was not the kind of mindless, impulsive individual.
"Oba, we had an agreement with the ancestors of those humans." The centaur chieftain glanced back at the young member of his tribe, and the resentful centaur immediately lowered his head.
"I don't think it's a good thing to clash with human wizards, especially at such a sensitive time." The centaur, having examined the ashes, returned to his people.
The soil produced by the "Bone Crushing and Ashes Box" went unnoticed by the horsemen, whose hooves left shallow yet clear footprints on it.
"Once the old man in that castle dies, the power of human wizards will be far less than it used to be." The young centaur known as Obama was clearly a radical thinker. His face revealed a thirst for war and a strong desire to possess the Forbidden Forest.
"How many of us are there? Give up your delusions—that's the only way you'll live longer." The tribe's leader frowned and warned the young centaur, Oba.
"I see."
Obama the centaur dared not contradict his leader's lesson.
Perhaps to prevent his people from harboring any improper thoughts, the tribal leader looked up at the sky and issued an unquestionable order to his people in a stern voice.
"We must be extremely careful and keep a low profile! Think about it, the celestial phenomena of the past have been completely crushed into dust. What kind of upheaval could possibly overwhelm such an impending catastrophe?"
The centaur leader's voice was full of complexity and mystery.
"It's just a legend! Perhaps our ancestors are just scaring us!" The centaur Oba seemed to realize what the leader was about to say, but his obedience to the leader couldn't overcome his inner unwillingness to believe.
"Why would our ancestors deceive us? You bastard, don't spout nonsense!" The other centaurs glared angrily at the young man.
"Whether you believe in our ancestors or not, we can all see that the seven stars in our ancestors' prophecy have lit up. This is an unprecedented change, and no one should want our race to disappear into history or suffer the same fate as those elves." The centaur leader's deep voice sent a chill down the spines of all the centaurs!
They all looked up at the night sky, where stars, like pearls, were set against the deep blue canvas, shimmering with a distant and ancient light.
In this vast sea of stars, seven particularly bright stars are slowly rising.
The stars are arranged in an indescribable pattern, as if they were the embodiment of some ancient prophecy—a constellation that only the people of the Horses can decipher from their ancient memories.
"Seven angels will sound the trumpet for their Lord, and suffering and separation will melt away in the light of hope—that is the support of all, an unstoppable force."
The centaurs, gazing up at the sky, reflected the starry heavens in their pupils. Perhaps only they could see that among the seven stars, a faint, shimmering luster flickered in and out.
Regardless of their predictive abilities.
This obviously does not prevent every centaur from recalling certain information ingrained in their blood; the centaur's prophecies are sometimes far more unique than those of human wizards.
"Now, Oba, carefully observe the current celestial phenomena, and then answer me—" The centaur chieftain withdrew his gaze and turned to look at his young tribesman.
"These are human wizards trying to ascend to godhood! Regardless of success or failure, they dare to tamper with the forbidden path of godhood. Do you want to compete with such a group in madness?"
In the tranquil jungle.
Ancient oak trees and evergreen shrubs swayed gently in the night breeze, casting shadows.
The centaur leader's words went unanswered. Contrary to the rumors of their unruly nature, these centaurs showed no trace of courage; their silence only betrayed their underlying fear and anxiety.
"I only wish that the so-called angels revealed by fate would not be born in this Hogwarts, so that perhaps we can obtain undisturbed peace amidst future changes."
After escorting Aurora back to the Slytherin common room, Ian silently memorized the password to the Slytherin common room door. Seemingly useless knowledge, no one knows when it might be needed.
"See you tomorrow... Don't even think about eating elves. Who's going to cook for us if we eat elves? We can't eat friendly creatures, including those round-faced fat chickens at Hogwarts."
I don't know if Aurora listened to my repeated admonitions.
On the way back, Ian rummaged through his bulging robe and found that Aurora had given him three eggs, each with a greenish-blue pattern on its shell.
In the corridor at night.
These round eggs, barely larger than chicken eggs, emitted a faint green glow, varying in intensity, as if breathing, giving them a sense of life poised to burst forth.
Perhaps these eggs were stolen midnight snacks from elsewhere by the Winged Demon, or perhaps they were offspring laid by the Winged Demon itself. Ian thought the latter was slightly more likely.
After all, even if the winged demon, having lost its master, became free, it shouldn't have attacked Aurora so frantically, unless it had never been in contact with Aurora with its master.
"It's most likely that they're protecting their own eggs, but they're glowing, so they might be emitting radiation." Ian put the egg, which he suspected was a winged demon, to his nose and smelled it.
It had a very, very peculiar smell, and Ian bet on it based on all his years of experience eating there.
This flavor would most likely pair very well with tomatoes and a little minced garlic.
"And a little chopped green onion is also needed."
Ian swallowed hard, probably influenced by Aurora.
If he hadn't known how expensive magical creature eggs were, he might have wanted to detour to the kitchen again. It's just that his lack of funds prevented Ian from conceiving the "Fantastic Beasts in the Pot" series. Returning to his dormitory without incident, Ian was still fiddling with the three special eggs in his hands.
Wouldn't they be worth more if they were hatched and then sold?
Or you could raise them yourself and let them multiply endlessly?
"This is a contraband item restricted by the Ministry of Magic; it can probably only be sold secretly in Knockturn Alley."
Perhaps I can take them to the dreamlike realm to raise them tomorrow night.
"According to the passage of time within the illusionary realm—hiss, I might actually have a chance to become a master of magical creature breeding." Ian found a place for the three winged demon eggs.
He carefully placed the egg in his suitcase, then used some clever tricks to conceal it before finally starting to wash up amidst his roommate's snoring.
Before going to bed, Ian noticed that Snape and Dumbledore were still not far apart. The two might really have a close personal relationship and had started playing hide-and-seek in the castle outside the office.
"Middle-aged and elderly people have more energy than me."
He yawned sleepily.
After a quick wash, Ian soon drifted off to sleep—having already learned how to control dreams, he had the added benefit of being able to freely decide his dream adventures, unlike other young wizards.
"Damn it! We came to rescue the princess! How could you put her in the pot too?!"
A morning at Hogwarts.
As the first rays of sunlight shyly peeked into the ancient castle, the whole world seemed to awaken in this soft and mysterious light. The sky gradually tinged from deep blue to delicate pinkish-purple, followed by a dazzling golden yellow, as if nature's palette had been inadvertently poured out, repainting the world with vibrant colors.
"Good morning."
"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts class today!"
"The new teacher is the famous Lockhart! My mom and dad both got divorced because of him!" Students began to emerge from the dormitory one after another.
The laughter, conversations, playful banter, and even the sounds of couples kissing among the young wizards mingled together. Some might still be rubbing their sleepy eyes, while others were already full of energy, ready to face a new day of learning and challenges—this is the innate difference between academic underachievers and high achievers.
"Snapped!"
"Snapped!"
Ian was probably among the last to go to bed last night, but due to the psychological trauma Aurora had caused him last night, his dreams, which he could clearly control, took an unpredictable turn.
This caused Ian to wake up very early, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, since in Ian's dorm room, the person who woke up earliest enjoyed the pleasure of slapping him twice.
When Ian woke up his roommate and went out into the lounge, he saw that others were enjoying similar pleasures outside. He saw a girl slap a boy across the face.
The voices, tinged with questions like "Why don't you brush your teeth?", echoed in my ears.
Ian covered his ears.
he knows.
A vibrant and energetic new day has begun at Hogwarts. Breakfast is, as always, a nutritious combination, but Ian, with a slightly poor appetite, opted for two vegetarian sandwiches.
With Halloween approaching, many young wizards were discussing it during breakfast. Ian looked thoughtfully at the candles above his head that seemed to never go out.
"What are you thinking about?"
William, chewing on smoked meat, leaned closer, looking somewhat curious.
"I think you should practice leading the horse more, instead of always losing my horse." Ian's dream experience last night wasn't very good.
"You should probably choose the flying broomstick; I think I'm better suited to wielding one." William, Ian's roommate, was already aware of Ian's fantastical dreams every night.
"So, what did you have me do last night?" Michael asked, leaning in at that moment.
They were all in their early teens, and no one wanted to see only two of them in a friendship between three people.
Ian looked at him.
I put down the vegetarian sandwich I was eating.
"I don't know, Michael. You should ask William. He's the one who lost you, not me."
Amidst heavy sighs.
Michael, the clever young Ravenclaw wizard, looked utterly bewildered. Amidst a flurry of self-recommendations—"I'd be perfect to be the Dark Lord"—the three of them walked out of the Great Hall carrying their textbook, *Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense*.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts class is on the second floor.
As the most unique and also the most mysterious of the Hogwarts O.W.L. exams, Defense Against the Dark Arts differs slightly from other courses in its teaching method.
It operates on a model where each college has its own separate classes.
"Nobody here?"
"We're the first!"
The three of them ate quickly, so they were the first to arrive at the classroom.
When Ian and his two roommates pushed open the door and went inside, they found that the classroom, which used to be full of desks and chairs, was now empty, and all the desks and chairs had been moved somewhere.
"I bet Lockhart sold the school's property," McCormick said confidently. "My mom said he's not a good person, and handsome men aren't good people."
Ian glared at him.
"Of course, except for you, Ian. I know my mom makes mistakes too." Michael immediately backed down, not because he was afraid of Ian's gaze, but because he was clinging to that sliver of hope. "Can I hold William's hand tonight? I promise I won't lose him."
Upon hearing this, William, who had been reviewing his textbook, suddenly looked up and immediately lunged at Michael, baring his teeth and claws. "Damn it! I'm Ian's favorite stable boy!"
The two of them started playfully fighting in the empty classroom.
"You two are so childish."
Ian, completely oblivious to his own limitations, made a judgment. He looked around, wondering why Gilderoy Lockhart hadn't brought a whole bunch of his own works.
True to Gilderoy Lockhart's nature, none of his self-aggrandizing novels were on the back-to-school list.
Even if he were to give each person a free copy, he should have prepared a large number of autobiographies.
"Perhaps the other students were helping him move the books. Given how shameless this guy is, it's not impossible that he would openly sell his books in class."
Just as Ian was guessing.
One by one, many young Ravenclaw wizards arrived at the classroom. Cho Chang was one of the earlier ones, and she went straight to Ian as soon as she entered.
"Give."
Qiu Zhang pulled out a money pouch. "Each note is thirteen Galleons. I've sold five for you."
It seems your map is much more popular than I expected.
This was somewhat unexpected by Ian.
"These little wizards are really rich. They're willing to pay the full amount before they've even seen the goods." Ian took the money bag, opened it, and found it full of shiny Galleons.
He might be able to send a gift to each of his friends at the orphanage before Halloween. Of course, if the Ministry of Magic doesn't allow wizards to mail wizards' items to Muggles, he might have to ask his good uncle to help him exchange them for pounds. Winter is coming, and his childhood friends should all need a thick quilt and brand-new winter clothes.
Ian wants to make money.
there are many reasons.
"Because the people who buy the maps are all my friends, the kind I've known since childhood." Qiu Zhang watched as Ian pulled out a few maps and handed them to him furtively, as if he were conducting some kind of street transaction.
"Thank you, my friend—I've made some technical improvements to these maps, you could call it an optimization. You can tell them it's an upgraded plus version!"
Ian took out his small purse and was about to count out the silver coins to give to Qiu Zhang.
Sometimes he really thought the currency in the wizarding world was absurd. 1 Galleon equals 17 Sickles, and 1 Sickle equals 29 Nats. Heaven knows what mathematical genius invented this conversion method.
Isn't decimal a better system?
Surely the creatures that first ruled the entire wizarding world couldn't have had seventeen fingers and twenty-nine toes, could they?
"Need not."
Qiu Zhang shook his head in refusal, "Consider it tuition for my future classes. I learned a lot from last night's lesson; I could clearly feel that you are far more capable than us."
Her tone was full of emotion, but her expression was somewhat bewildered, because she realized that as soon as she finished speaking, Ian put both money bags back into his robe.
It's incredibly fast.
All of them give people a dazzling feeling.
"You have no idea how hard I study behind your backs!" Ian was determined to create a good image of himself as a diligent and hardworking student in front of his classmates.
however.
Gilderoy Lockhart arrived at an inopportune time.
Good afternoon, everyone.
Gilderoy Lockhart's voice was loud and clear. This wizard, whom Ian considered self-important and extremely narcissistic, certainly made a grand entrance into the classroom with his exquisite cane in hand.
Elegant, composed, confident, and poised, her overall demeanor exuded an extraordinary air. Upon meeting her, many of the young witches let out screams Ian had only ever seen from star-struck fans.
"Lockhart! It really is him!"
"Oh my god! My mom loves him so much!"
"I heard he saved so many people! He's practically a hero second only to Harry Potter! Thank you, Merlin! Thank you, Professor So-and-so, who's already dead!"
Not just the little witch.
Some of the young wizards also wore expressions of excitement and admiration. After all, Gilderoy Lockhart was a renowned adventurer writer in the wizarding world, a top star in the entertainment-scarce wizarding community.
"Great, everyone seems very enthusiastic, which is exactly what I wanted to see." Gilderoy Lockhart's smile was radiant, and his inner emotions were completely undisguised.
of course.
It's also possible that he simply doesn't have the ability to conceal it. In any case, Ian sensed very clearly that this person was filled with confidence, a desire to show off, and anticipation for the "performance" that was about to unfold.
Lockhart would certainly enjoy performing his specialty of using other people's experiences and glory to promote himself in front of the young wizards.
Ian wasn't surprised by Gilderoy Lockhart's current state of mind; after all, such emotional fluctuations were very much in line with his understanding of Gilderoy Lockhart himself. Even just looking at the surface, every word and action of this guy seemed to be silently saying—"I am the great wizard you have been waiting for."
Such sensory experiences undoubtedly deepened his dramatic and flamboyant image in Ian's mind.
"To be honest, before receiving Dumbledore's invitation, I never imagined that I would one day become a professor at the House." Lockhart walked to the podium, stopped, and gracefully rested his cane on the edge of the podium. Then, he looked around the classroom with a charming smile.
"This is obviously an opportunity for me—a chance to try a new job and experience something new and exciting." Gilderoy Lockhart's meticulously styled hair framed his eyes as he scanned his audience, making sure everyone's eyes were on him.
"I must say, your headmaster has a really good eye. Believe me, no one is more suitable for this position than me—I really know a lot about dark magic. Yes, I think Dumbledore can attest to that." Gilderoy Lockhart's smiling face revealed an attitude of "no one knows more about dark magic than me."
Ian hasn't reacted yet.
Standing next to him, Michael pursed his lips and muttered something pretentious. It was clear that the young man didn't hold Gilderoy Lockhart in the same high regard as William.
"Professor, without tables and chairs, are we going to have to stand and teach today?" A young wizard raised his hand and asked Gilderoy Lockhart, who was boasting.
"Close your book and put it aside. We don't need that kind of thing. I specifically had the tables and chairs moved away to show you that my class is a practical one."
"Not only will you not need that ridiculous self-defense guide today, but you won't need to bring it to any class from now on—I might write a new one for you when I have time."
"Of course, when I write depends on my mood."
Gilderoy Lockhart may be paving the way for selling his own books; who knows, he has already shown disdain for the Hogwarts textbooks.
Ian raised his hand.
"How should we put this into practice?"
He was somewhat worried that Gilderoy Lockhart might want to have first-year wizards start dueling in the classroom, prematurely establishing the dueling club that might have only lasted a year in the original story.
"I remember you, kid, Ian Prince, right? I hope my recommendation last night helped you." Gilderoy Lockhart called Ian by name directly.
He might have stayed up all night memorizing the names of every little wizard, and seeing Ian nod in thanks, his smile became even brighter and more radiant.
"Practice naturally requires confrontation—theory is always the simplest thing in this course, and you can study it on your own after class. There is no need to take up our precious time together."
17
as predicted.
Ian had a bad feeling.
Gilderoy Lockhart continued to elaborate on his ideas, "In fact, whether it's potions, charms, transfiguration, or even astronomy or herbalism, these courses are all prerequisites for our course. You just need to take them well, and you will naturally have the most basic qualifications to learn defense against the dark magic."
"Yes, there's no specific thing for defense against dark magic. You can use any means at your disposal to fight danger, even using dark magic to fight dark magic." Gilderoy Lockhart's words caused a stir, and some of the young wizards even showed expressions of fear.
Gilderoy Lockhart's statement is indeed somewhat frightening for a child of this age.
That's black magic!
A professor was actually telling them that they could use dark magic to fight against it? Young wizards who had grown up with a biased family education about dark magic found this idea very hard to accept.
If the speaker on the podium weren't so renowned, perhaps someone would have stood up to refute him. Of course,
Compared to the somewhat repulsive reactions of the young wizards, Ian was merely surprised. He didn't like Lockhart, but he had to admit that Gilderoy Lockhart's statement was indeed correct.
A successful defense against dark magic doesn't end with death. But if you can use dark magic to defeat someone else's dark magic, how can that not be considered a successful defense against dark magic?
"Digest it slowly, understand it gradually, and wait until you have experienced as much as I have in the future."
I think you will naturally agree with what I'm telling you today.
Gilderoy Lockhart boasted proudly that his cane appeared to be carved from the finest wood, with a handle inlaid with dazzling, shimmering gems.
"Professor, could you show us some dark magic?" a daring young wizard asked, snapping out of his daze.
He raised his hand, looking at it with a hint of curiosity in the light.
However, his question was met with a shake of the head from Gilderoy Lockhart.
"It's way too early for children your age to be exposed to dark magic, and I doubt your headmaster would allow me to teach you dark magic."
The other person simply said they wanted to see for themselves, but Gilderoy Lockhart twisted the meaning, appearing completely unfazed as if he were already used to such tactics.
A very reasonable reason.
Able to prevent others from letting him cast spells -- Ian finally gave up on his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Gilderoy Lockhart was probably just going to brag to them for a whole class?
"Professor, you just said that Defense Against the Dark Arts is a practical class, so will you be using Irish goblins for us to practice? Please forgive me, but I accidentally saw one of those creatures in your office yesterday when I passed by." No wonder William had been reviewing the relevant knowledge the whole way; he had indeed used "cheating" methods again, just like in Herbalism class.
In other words, the first-year wizard, restless and uneasy, saw the classroom empty, and Gilderoy...
Lockhart panicked when he realized he hadn't brought anything. After all, William's mindset had been significantly affected by his repeated failed attempts to "cheat" in Herbology class.
"Um?"
Gilderoy Lockhart glanced at William. "You don't need to apologize. After all, what you saw was just what the previous professor left behind. I wouldn't plagiarize someone else's preparations and use them as my own teaching content."
talking.
Gilderoy Lockhart glanced around again, his gaze finally settling on Ian, making the somewhat uncomfortable Ian feel a little confused.
"Oh? Professor, are you planning to have me teach the class?"
His eyes widened.
"Hahaha, of course not." Gilderoy Lockhart was amused. "I'm just a little disappointed that you, whom Dumbledore always talks about, didn't even notice some of the little tricks I set up. Child, you must remember that staying vigilant is very important for a wizard."
"Don't think that just because this is Hogwarts, there are no potential threats—danger is everywhere, and that's the profound lesson I want to teach you in this very first lesson!"
The words fell.
Gilderoy Lockhart tapped the podium lightly with his cane, and immediately, the wooden podium seemed to turn into flowing water, boiling and crumbling into a dark brown liquid on the ground.
What was wrapped inside was revealed—it was a huge cage.
"No!"
"We're going to die!"
"Aaaaaah!!!"
Fear and horror instantly filled the classroom. The temperature in the air plummeted with the appearance of the enormous cage, and many people felt as if their breath was frosty. An indescribable heaviness permeated the classroom, as if an invisible pressure was weighing on everyone's hearts.
It was dark and cold.
It makes it difficult to breathe.
Fear, like an invisible chain, tightly bound the hearts and minds of all the young wizards.
"No way! How could it be this weird thing?!"
William turned around and was about to pull Ian and Michael away.
However, they discovered that the classroom door had been closed at some point.
It wasn't just him.
Michael, the little black guy, was so frightened that his bloodline was no longer pure. Many of his classmates fell to the ground and kept crawling backward. Even Ian had an incredulous expression on his face.
no way.
Ian never expected to see such a creature in Defense Against the Dark Arts class—a tall, cloaked monster with its face completely hidden under a headscarf, huddled in a cage, its bare hands exposed, displaying a horribly withered and decayed appearance, as if it were a body that had been dead for who knows how many years.
"Dementors!"
Ian's eyes widened.
He couldn't believe Gilderoy Lockhart was so audacious! Did he really not know his own limitations? Was he trying to turn the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom into Azkaban in an instant?!
I looked around at my classmates.
Besides being terrified.
The young wizards, feeling the chill, were shivering, and many even started rolling their eyes. They had no ability to defend themselves against the Dementors.
The light is being absorbed.
Not to mention the joy and warmth emanating from the young wizards—Ian found the scene utterly absurd and ridiculous! How could Gilderoy Lockhart possibly have managed to smuggle a Dementor into the school?
Where's Dumbledore?
How could he not even notice something like this?! He suddenly pulled out his Marauder's Map, and sure enough, Ian didn't see Dumbledore's icon on it!
Snape's icon is gone too!
"This is illegal!" Ian didn't think Dumbledore would agree to Gilderoy Lockhart teaching in this way, and he was completely baffled by Gilderoy Lockhart's smuggling methods.
Hogwarts is indeed like a sieve!
"This is Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Prince."
Gilderoy Lockhart stood at the closest distance to the Dementors, and he seemed to be greatly affected as well, his eyes closed, his brows furrowed, and his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
"You're absolutely insane!"
Ian no longer cared about pleasing Gilderoy Lockhart. He was probably the only one present who remained unaffected, and he even discovered a startling truth while carefully observing the curled-up Dementors.
This is the same owl I saw in front of the owl hut before—Giddro Lockhart must have gone mad and stolen a Ministry of Magic "employee" just to show off!
How did this guy do that?!
The ability to spend money!?
Ian had no time to ponder this bizarre question; his two roommates were already somewhat delirious, and Cho Chang and the other young wizards were even breathing weakly. Dementors could drain people's joy, hope, and courage, quickly plunging those around them into despair and fear.
When this fear reaches its peak, the cold, exhaustion, and weakness can cause a person to fall into a coma. Dementors can absorb people's joy, hope, and courage, quickly plunging those around them into despair and terror. When this fear reaches its peak, the cold, exhaustion, and weakness can cause a person to fall into a coma or suffer a mental breakdown.
of course.
Perhaps because of the cage, the Dementor was unable to escape, but even if it just raised its head inside the cage, the resulting anomaly was something the young wizards could not withstand.
Driven by instinct, the Dementor already displayed its desire, making its presence seem to drain all the warmth, light, and hope from the room.
"The students are all dying! What are you still teaching for?!" Ian began to suspect that Gilderoy Lockhart had been hit by the Imperius Curse, after all, the person who killed the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had not yet been caught!
"They will learn a lot from this lesson—and so will you. That's the reality, kid. The real enemies won't line up just because you're old enough to grow up."
"I believe that after today's lesson, they will hate their own weakness and become better wizards from now on," Gilderoy Lockhart sighed.
"Fluorescent lights!"
The gleaming CD player dispelled the dimness in the classroom and lessened the bone-chilling cold, but it ultimately couldn't truly eliminate the terrifying quality of the Dementors.
Ian stared at the Dementor in the cage. Their eyes met, and for some reason, he felt that he could communicate with it. However, before he could speak to the Dementor...
"A very powerful Illumination Charm—Light of the Mind, capable of illuminating everything," Gilderoy Lockhart suddenly commented. Ian realized that the other man had opened his eyes at some point.
Those blue eyes.
It is terrifyingly profound.
What sent chills down Ian's spine was Lockhart's spine. Voldemort?! How could that bumbling Forgetfulness Charm specialist have such an air about him and such sharp eyes? Just as Ian's scalp tingled, realizing something was wrong, and his heart sank, something completely unexpected happened.
"The Illumination Charm won't work against Dementors, no matter how bright your inner light shines. The correct way is..." Gilderoy Lockhart raised his wand.
Ian wanted to cast a spell on him.
But he found that the other party only waved his wand lightly, and his left hand was raised in mid-air and could not move. Although he could still cast magic, the wand obviously could not be aimed at Gilderoy Lockhart.
"ProtegonDiabolica!"
Ian could only raise a ball of Fiendfire around himself as a defense, a unique technique from Aurora's grandfather Gellert Grindelwald in "The Secrets of Black Magic".
It can create a fire shield around the caster, which can resist some magic. Of course...
Ian didn't just want to use this raging fire for defense.
"There!"
Ian attempted to use his will to guide Fiendfire toward Gilderoy Lockhart, who was standing next to the Dementor.
Regardless of whether this guy was under the Imperius Curse or was a user of Polyjuice Potion, his daring to bring a Dementor to the young wizards was enough reason for Ian to kill him.
Get started first!
The one who struck last was the one who got hurt!
The best defense is a good offense!
"Heh, you've learned well."
Gilderoy Lockhart waved his wand, and Ian's Fiendfire was redirected elsewhere.
"But that's not what we're going to learn today. Follow me, son, the correct way to deal with Dementors is called—Palmtops of Exile!"
It was as if their true intention was simply to conduct a teaching session.
As Gilderoy Lockhart uttered the incantation, the tip of his wand began to shimmer with a soft light. This was a sign that magical energy was gathering within the wand.
Followed by.
The wand seemed to be activated by a mysterious force.
A silvery substance began to gush out.
warmth.
And yet, it is beautiful.