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HRHL# Chapter 129: Grindelwald: Do You Think My Sister Will Mourn You? {2}
🕑 Added 2025-03-22 19:37:14 +0000 UTCBefore long, the large doors swung open, and Professor Lockhart strode in from outside.
It had to be said—the students showed this professor a great deal of respect. The moment he entered, the chattering ceased, and all eyes turned toward him in silent attention.
With an elegant gait, Lockhart walked to the podium.
He first swept his gaze across the classroom, finally settling his attention on Harry.
After staring at Harry for a moment, Lockhart began his self-introduction.
"I," he pointed at his own photograph, which winked back at them, "am Gilderoy Lockhart. Third-Class Order of Merlin, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—but I don't like to talk about that. After all, I didn’t banish the Bandon Banshee with just a smile."
Bandon was a real place—a small town in County Cork, Ireland.
Lockhart was referring to an episode from Break with a Banshee, a book in which he detailed his supposed exorcism of the Bandon Banshee.
Upon seeing Lockhart's dazzling smile, the female students clutched their chests in admiration, gazing at him with starry-eyed expressions.
The male students, on the other hand, looked like they were about to be sick. The Slytherins, in particular, were the most exaggerated in their reactions—Draco Malfoy even rolled his eyes so dramatically that he seemed on the verge of fainting.
"I think I won’t need olive oil in my salad for the rest of the year," Ron muttered under his breath to Neville.
Neville looked as though he shared the sentiment, though he didn't harbor any particular dislike for Professor Lockhart.
After all, Professor Snape loathed Lockhart, and by the logic of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' Neville was willing to give Lockhart the benefit of the doubt.
"I see that you've all purchased my complete works—excellent! Then, let's start today with a small quiz. Don’t be afraid—it’s just to see how well you’ve read and understood."
As Lockhart spoke, he stood up and retrieved a thick stack of papers from the podium.
Once he finished distributing them, he returned to the front and said, "You have thirty minutes. Now—begin!"
Harry looked down at the test paper. He had expected questions related to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but to his astonishment, the entire quiz was filled with questions about Lockhart himself—his birthday, his favorite color, his aspirations, and his proudest achievements.
How is knowing this useful? Harry thought, setting his quill down on the desk and silently joining the rest of the class in a non-violent act of resistance.
Thirty minutes passed agonizingly slowly—at least, that was Ron’s opinion.
Harry, however, didn't particularly care. He sat in a daze, lost in thought about possible locations of basilisk fangs.
Oh, right—he had forgotten to use the two-way mirror to consult Bodrig about it.
The Angel’s Feather was in Dumbledore’s possession, so logically, Bodrig should be the one to negotiate with him.
The only concern now was whether Dumbledore would be willing to part with such an item. That would depend on how persuasive Gringotts could be.
Harry believed that if Gringotts demonstrated enough sincerity, they might just sway Dumbledore.
What Harry didn’t notice was that Lockhart kept glancing at him every now and then throughout the quiz.
After what felt like an eternity, the thirty minutes were finally up. Lockhart went around collecting the papers one by one and began flipping through them in front of the class.
"Tsk, tsk. Hardly anyone remembered that my favorite color is lilac," Lockhart remarked disdainfully. "I mentioned it in Year with the Yeti. Clearly, you all need to read more carefully. And oh—you should all take another look at Wanderings with Werewolves! In Chapter Twelve, I explicitly stated that my ideal birthday gift would be for all magical and non-magical people to live in harmony."
Harry looked up again at the narcissistic professor, scrutinizing him anew.
His wish was for wizards and Muggles to coexist peacefully?
Harry’s instincts told him... that wasn’t quite right.
However, Lockhart went on to shower praise on Hermione, who had scored a perfect one hundred.
"Ten points to Gryffindor," Lockhart said with a dazzling smile. "Miss Granger—what a bright young lady!"
He placed her test paper atop the stack and beamed at her.
"Such a fine student. I will treasure this paper."
This declaration immediately set off a chorus of squeals from the female students.
They all looked at Hermione with envy, jealousy, and resentment, wondering why they hadn’t been the ones to receive such an honor.
Afterward, Lockhart turned around and gave his wand a slight flourish.
"Now—pay attention! My duty is to teach you how to defend yourselves against the darkest creatures of the magical world! Today, you will face the most terrifying beings imaginable."
Lockhart’s voice rang out dramatically: "But remember—so long as I’m here, you are perfectly safe. All I ask is that you remain calm!"
The class held their breath as Lockhart pointed his wand at a rattling wardrobe in the corner.
"One thing to keep in mind: under no circumstances—none whatsoever—should you scream," Lockhart said with an air of nonchalance. "It won't help you fight them, and it might just make them angrier."
At these words, even Draco, sitting in the back row, shrank into his seat, trying to use Crabbe and Goyle as human shields.
With a dramatic flourish, Lockhart opened the wardrobe.
Out stepped a Draugr.
Its body was grotesquely twisted and deformed, as if warped by some dark force; its pitch-black eyes held no trace of life—only the chilling emptiness of death. Its ghastly pale skin was shrunken tightly over its bones, utterly devoid of color or vitality.
For a brief moment, the classroom was silent.
Then, piercing screams erupted.
No one had expected Lockhart to introduce a moving Draugr on the very first lesson of the second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts course.
Lockhart waved his wand, conjuring a ring of fire around the Draugr, trapping it inside.
Strangely, the creature seemed to acknowledge the fire’s presence and immediately halted its advance, instead howling from within the fiery circle.
Harry, of course, recognized Draugr. In fact, a hundred years ago, they weren’t all that uncommon.
But the person most closely connected to Draugr in Harry’s mind was undeniably Sebastian Sallow.
Back then, Sebastian’s sister, Anne, had been struck by a dark magic curse and was on the brink of death. Desperate to save her, Sebastian had scoured every possible source for a cure.
Finally, he discovered an artifact—one that could summon Draugr and, through a sacrificial ritual, cure those afflicted by dark curses.
Determined, Sebastian set out to uncover the artifact’s secrets, believing it could heal Anne.
Eventually, he learned of its whereabouts—deep within the underground crypt of Feldcroft.
By the time Harry and Veratia discovered what he was up to, it was already too late.
When they arrived at the crypt’s entrance, they found Anne and Ominis waiting anxiously.
They fought their way through hordes of Draugr and finally found Sebastian—surrounded by the undead.
Just when Harry thought Sebastian was about to be attacked, he realized something shocking—Sebastian was controlling the Draugr, commanding them in battle.
Before Harry could react, Sebastian’s uncle, Solomon, appeared.
Amidst the heated argument, Sebastian, consumed by rage, cast the Avada Kedavra curse at Solomon.
Fortunately, Veratia reacted in time, using Transfiguration to block the curse, preventing a catastrophe.
Of course, Veratia didn’t forget to follow up with a well-placed Obliviate on Solomon.
No one felt sorry for the old man—he was stubborn and unreasonable. Even Harry had been tempted to throw a hex at him more than once.
Fortunately, the commotion was finally put to an end under the firm suppression of Harry and Veratia. Sebastian’s diary was also confiscated by Veratia—they had tested it, but the magic within it could not lift the curse on Annie.
Harry fell into deep thought while his classmates continued screaming.
Professor Lockhart allowed them to vent their fear through screams, waiting until the noise had almost subsided before clapping his hands, signaling them to stop.
“Well, I have to admit, encountering an Inferius at your level—second-year students—might be a bit premature.” Professor Lockhart winked at them. “But I assume some of you must have read one of my books… Now, take a guess, which one?”
Hermione raised her hand immediately.
“Miss Granger.” Lockhart smiled and gestured for her to stand and answer.
“‘Magical Me,’ Professor,” Hermione said excitedly. “It mentions your battle with zombies. But, Professor, I can’t tell if the one before us is an Inferius or a zombie.”
“Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor!” Lockhart clapped enthusiastically. “For a young witch like yourself to know the difference between a zombie and an Inferius—very commendable indeed! In fact, this here is an Inferius. Now, Miss Granger, could you explain to everyone exactly what an Inferius is?”
“An Inferius is a corpse reanimated through a dark wizard’s curse,” Hermione recited animatedly. “It becomes a terrifying puppet, controlled by the spellcaster as a disposable servant. The most distinguishing feature of an Inferius, which sets it apart from the living, is its pale, clouded eyes.”
“Well done! Very well done!” Lockhart applauded, and the Gryffindors joined in, clapping for Hermione.
“I’m delighted—truly delighted—to see that this school has not yet been completely corrupted by Dum—” Lockhart clapped as he spoke, though he abruptly swallowed the rest of Dumbledore’s name. “I know your previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—Quirinus Quirrell, correct? He never actually taught you anything worthwhile, did he? Just endlessly droning on about his so-called adventures. Tsk tsk…”
“Fortunately, it’s not too late. Now that I’m here, you’ll learn real Defense Against the Dark Arts—” Lockhart cleared his throat and began his lecture. “Inferi are corpses resurrected through necromantic magic. Remember, they are physically reinforced by dark magic, which means ordinary spells won’t work against them. For example…”
He flicked his wand.
“Stupefy!”
The spell hit the Inferius, but only caused it to pause for a moment.
“Reducto!”
The second spell struck, but the Inferius remained unfazed. Instead, it tilted its head back and let out a guttural growl.
The students watched in rapt attention, even those sitting in the back rows standing up to get a clearer view of Lockhart’s demonstration.
“So, what I must tell you is—” Lockhart deliberately elongated his words, ensuring every student’s focus was on him before flashing his signature dazzling smile.
This time, no one scoffed at his expression.
Because Professor Lockhart had just demonstrated his true prowess as a teacher.
“There has yet to be a spell that allows a reanimated corpse to resist burning. Thus, an Inferius preserved by dark magic can only be destroyed by fire.” Lockhart tapped the blackboard with his wand, producing a crisp sound. “Now, among you, who can name some fire-based spells? Step forward and give a demonstration.”
“I can, Professor!” Seamus eagerly raised his hand.
Seeing another student aside from Hermione volunteer, Lockhart looked pleasantly surprised.
It seems Gryffindor might just become my favorite house, he mused, nodding approvingly. “Alright, Mr. Finnigan, come up and show the class how to attack an Inferius with fire magic.”
Seamus stepped onto the platform, gripping his wand tightly.
“I must clarify something first, Mr. Finnigan,” Lockhart said in a low voice. “A young wizard of your level does not yet possess the magical strength to break through an Inferius’s defenses—even with fire-based spells. So don’t be discouraged; just give it your best effort.”
“Yes, Professor,” Seamus nodded quickly.
He turned toward Harry.
Harry gave him a small nod, as if to encourage him to follow the professor’s instructions.
However, Seamus misunderstood—thinking Harry wanted him to put on a great performance.
Thus, Seamus raised his wand and pointed it at the still-growling Inferius.
“Confringo!”
A burst of flames erupted, followed by a loud explosion. The spell struck the Inferius’s face directly.
But since an Inferius was a dark magical construct, not something a second-year could easily deal with, Seamus had only managed to blast its face apart—it was far from being vanquished.
An eyeball was sent flying through the air, landing with a sickening plop right on Pansy Parkinson’s head.
For a moment, she stood frozen. Then, slowly, she reached up and peeled the slimy, cold eyeball from her hair, staring at it for a second before letting out an ear-piercing scream.
Draco Malfoy, sitting nearby, burst into laughter, joined by a few of his fellow Slytherins.
But in her panic, Pansy flung her arm wildly, sending the eyeball flying straight toward Draco.
Now, it was Draco’s turn to panic.
“Crabbe! Goyle! Get it away from me!” Draco scrambled backward, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the rogue eyeball.
Hermione and Ron both stood up and cast Scouring Charms across the classroom, clearing away the remnants of the Inferius’s decayed flesh from various surfaces.
Lockhart, on the other hand, looked genuinely startled by the power of Seamus’s spell. He hadn’t expected a second-year student to produce such a forceful spell.
Blasting apart an Inferius’s face—this was the level of excellence one might expect from Durmstrang’s top third-years.
After all, an Inferius was protected by dark magic.
This realization thrilled Lockhart—surely, he thought, the gentleman would be pleased to hear this.
These students… They are the future of the Saints.
Ha! That incompetent Dumbledore! Staying at Hogwarts, all he does is make the sweets at Honeydukes more expensive!
Observing Hermione and Ron’s efforts, Lockhart surveyed the now spotless classroom and declared loudly, “Excellent spellwork—ten points to Gryffindor! For Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley’s cleaning spells. As for Mr. Finnigan—your impressive fire magic earns Gryffindor another ten points!”
Seamus practically bounced with excitement, suddenly finding Lockhart much more agreeable.
As long as he awarded Gryffindor points, Seamus could tolerate even Lockhart’s pompous demeanor.
Lockhart glanced at the bewildered Inferius, pursed his lips, and flicked his wand, instructing it to retreat.
