The slacker professor at Hogwarts

Lockhart didn't know how he got back to his office.

A multitude of ideas were surging wildly through his mind. These ideas were chaotic, yet they seemed to be connected by a clear thread that he could never quite grasp.

Harry Potter seemed to have followed him the whole way, buzzing and muttering something beside him.

On the way, they also saw Peeves, who was about to knock over and smash the school's precious vanishing cabinet. Upon seeing Lockhart, Peeves screamed in terror and ran away.

There seemed to be a ghost following along, whispering to Harry Potter, seemingly discussing the celebrations for the anniversary of his death.

But none of that matters.

Bang.

As the door closed, he sat alone on a leaning tree trunk in his office, while the little golden retrievers all returned to their little dens, not daring to disturb him.

Only the unjustly killed fairy found a towel and wiped the blood from his hair from behind.

Lockhart just stared blankly at the wand in his hand.

It is glowing.

He was still in the state of a "forest darling," and that feeling became even stronger as he returned to the "grove" of his office.

"Flowers have a healing effect!"

He waved his wand, and purple flowers bloomed everywhere in the grove, filling the air with their fragrance.

"A pack of gray wolves!"

He waved his wand again, and a mist rose from the grove, swirling and billowing as three gray wolves emerged. Having received no further instructions from him, the forest spirits simply circled him, each finding a place to rest in the woods.

See, he does have some talent.

To truly embody the romance of fairy tales and to genuinely apply the wisdom learned from memory.

Now, these two spells are different from the original methods of the "Forest Witch".

The biggest difference is that the spells that the forest witch naturally comprehended have changed.

The spell "Kind flowers heal wounds" has been changed to "Flowers heal," and the spell "Deep in the forest, wolves roam in packs" has been changed to "Wolves in packs."

He was carefully digesting the forest witch's memories and wisdom, completely transforming her adventurous fairytale life into his own.

He even began to grasp the rhythm of the Forest Witch's spellcasting, allowing him to transform his magical state into the Forest Witch's "Family of the Forest" state.

But it is precisely this extremely unique state that makes it so difficult for him to grasp.

"The delicate relationship between me and the world?"

He looked at the wand in his hand and murmured, "And this wand in my hand, is it the measure?"

He suddenly understood why Ollivander asked so many questions about him when selling wands, and also understood why he needed to pick up and try out each wand that should meet the requirements.

At that time, the wand he held in his hand was actually embedded in him and the world, just like a circuit was connected. When the connection was good, it would naturally unleash magical effects.

Select me and turn on my light!

Therefore, all the answers lie in this magic wand that you choose to suit yourself!

Thinking of this, he had an idea and began to search through Lockhart's personal belongings.

He had packed it up beforehand, intending to get rid of some of the items inside, including the original owner's magic wand.

I turned it over.

Holding one in each hand, the feeling instantly became clear.

The wand he bought himself was lit up, while Lockhart's wand seemed to be completely still.

"Give it a try..."

He let out a long breath, trying to calm himself down as quickly as possible, clearing his mind of all thoughts, and truly experiencing the original owner's memories.

Unlike the memories of the other dozen or so powerful wizards, the original owner's memories were so complete. Of all the chaotic noises that usually filled his head, this one was the loudest.

He has always been very careful not to touch on this part.

After all, even digesting the simplest fragment of a wizard's adventure is so dangerous, let alone the original owner's complete memories and personality.

Slowly...

Slowly...

It's unclear how much time passed, but Lockhart's facial muscles, body posture, and demeanor as he sat on the tree trunk were all changing.

That feeling was so foreign to these dark magic creatures, like the fairy who died unjustly.

So unfamiliar that both the Boggarts and the Winged Demons were itching to deal with this wizard who dared to approach their territory.

The wronged fairy looked at Lockhart with some confusion, wondering why he seemed like a different person.

Only the little golden retriever sprinted like a golden lightning bolt and leaped onto Lockhart's shoulder, baring its teeth at the monsters, looking ready to fight them at any moment.

The office fell silent once again.

It's unclear how much time passed, but Lockhart's demeanor began to change dramatically, instantly causing Boggart, the Winged Demon, and the Wrongfully Dead Fairy to completely mistake the wizard before them for someone else.

But the little golden retriever stared intently at them, preventing them from making any rash moves.

Seeing that he had completely suppressed these scumbags, the little golden retriever looked at Lockhart with some concern, wondering what was going on with his master.

Unlike last time, this time its owner didn't give it any instructions beforehand, which left it somewhat bewildered.

Lockhart before me is so different.

His heart was boiling with unparalleled madness, an extremely twisted madness.

It was a proud young man who grew up amidst countless praises who came to the magical world and entered a magic school, only to find that everyone around him was a wizard just like him, and that many, many people were far more outstanding than him.

Here, there is even a very backward and stupid theory of bloodline that is prevalent. How could someone as handsome and intelligent as him, who is blessed by God, be discriminated against because of his so-called innate bloodline?

It's always been him who discriminates against others because of his own unique advantages!

He can't accept it!

Absolutely unacceptable!

The boy had experienced repression, despair, and resentment, but ultimately vowed to become the most unique and dazzling person.

He wouldn't allow himself to become mediocre, he wouldn't allow himself to blend into the crowd, and he wouldn't allow himself to live as if he had never existed in this world!

He succeeded!

In just a few short years since graduation, what a load of bullshit: a close friend of the Urquhart family, what a load of bullshit: an old friend of Dumbledore, what a load of bullshit: the most wary witch of the Magical Congress of the United States...

He personally dealt with each of those so-called powerful figures in the wizarding world, taking their proudest experiences as spoils of war.

He was proud, and he had every right to be proud. He raised his hands, pointed at the wizarding world, and sneered—"You are all trash!"

He knew that this was extremely dangerous. If he was not careful, he would be killed by these powerful wizards. If he was not careful, he would be exposed and ruined, sent to Azkaban and never be able to get out.

So what!

He was a man of the world, and he was prepared to die at any moment. He wanted to die gloriously, not die in obscurity, unknown and uncared for.

Even if they ultimately die amidst ridicule from everyone, they should die in a headline bombardment in newspapers that radiate throughout the wizarding world, such as the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and Wizard Weekly!

A glorious death!

"Haha~"

Lockhart wore a perfectly standard smile, not one that was deliberately trained or painstakingly maintained, but simply a gift from heaven; he was born with a perfect smile.

He stood up with such grace, then looked at the two wands in his hands with some confusion.

The wand in his left hand was so unfamiliar, and its glowing light was rapidly fading.

The wand in his right hand, which he had used since childhood, was now excitedly spewing out streaks of dazzling golden fireworks, as if to say—my old friend, you have finally returned!

return?

Lockhart was puzzled. He casually flicked the wand in his left hand, intending to throw it away.

However, it was unsuccessful.

It felt as if it were stuck to my hand.

"Um?"

He picked it up again with some doubt and looked at it, only to see that it lit up again, but unlike the soft glow before, it was so bright and dazzling.

It shines so brightly and has such a strong presence!

bang~

A violent shockwave surged forth, blasting his own wand away and knocking him unconscious once more.

"hey-hey……"

Lockhart's expression shifted rapidly. Before he could fall, he regained his balance, raised an eyebrow, and murmured, "So that's how it is."

"Goo-gig!" The little golden retriever on my shoulder barked excitedly, as if cheering for its owner's return.

"Don't worry, this is just a small trial, I'm confident I can handle it."

Lockhart ruffled its head, smiling as he looked at the wand on the ground. "Do you know why this part of your memory can't take over my body?"

"Because you are not Lockhart, you are merely Lockhart's memories."

"And I, a real person, am truly connected to the world and subtly interacting with it."

"This is life!"

Life—this is the biggest difference between humans and other special beings such as ghosts, portraits in picture frames, and so on.

Lockhart gently waved his wand, his eyes full of laughter, "And it has affirmed the existence of life in this world!"

That's his confidence.

Magic is a mysterious and dangerous thing, but once you understand it, there's really nothing to worry about.

Danger comes from the unknown.

And he understands!

Just as Snape said, magic is the expression of one's own will. Then the wand is an extension of that will, an extension into this world.

This is really hilarious.

Lockhart wasn't willing to stop at simply knowing; he had to put it into practice, and he was always adept at using his intelligence.

He waved the wand, pressed it against his temple, and with a gentle flick, a silver thread floated in mid-air.

Then it fell into the crystal bird-snake skull meditation basin and turned into a silver liquid.

"I'm not greedy."

"I desperately need a cleansing spell; my life desperately needs this magic!"

"Yes, I really need it, so I should be able to easily process this memory without being affected at all!"

"This is the measure between me and magic, this is the measure that should exist between me and these memories!"

If it should be his, if it can be his, then it's within his grasp.

What is not his will not be forced; doing so will only bring disaster.

Therefore, if you want to continue to digest more magical wisdom, then go and experience it, and make yourself have more desires. Those will become opportunities to digest memories.

And this is precisely the principle behind the so-called "stepping into a fairy tale and magic blooming".

Lockhart stood smiling in front of the Pensieve, but instead of immersing his head in the memory as is the normal way to use the Pensieve, he gently inserted his wand into the memory.

Let the wand be the measure between him and this memory!

This is how it's used!

No, we should go further.

Lockhart even incorporated the techniques for brewing potions in a cauldron using a wand, as described in Snape's manuscript of "Potions Class in Severus," and combined them with his own methods.

puff puff~

The silver liquid in the meditation basin began to boil, as if there were bubbles inside, and gradually turned into mist and dissipated into the air.

Lockhart, standing before the Pensieve, had his eyes half-closed, lost in the world of the original body and all the dozen or so powerful wizards who had ever seen, used, or experienced the Cleansing Charm.

Finally, after who knows how much time had passed.

The Pensieve was empty, with Lockhart standing there thoughtfully, gently stroking his wand.

"Completely cleaned up!"

In an instant, all the blood and filth on his body vanished completely.

The magical energy rippled outwards like waves, touching the wronged fairy, the little golden retriever, the Boggart's tree hole, every hair on the winged demon's head, and every corner of the wardrobe.

"Perfect!"

Even though the room was dark, it was so clean that it reflected the lightning flashes from the thunder outside the window, sparkling and bright.