The quiet moments at Hogwarts never seemed to last long.
On Tuesday, Aiden emerged from the Room of Requirement as usual, only to find a silver phoenix waiting for him outside the door. The Patronus's shimmering eyes seemed to reflect his own heterochromatic ones, and for a moment, they both fell silent.
Then, the phoenix opened its beak, and instead of a clear, bird-like cry, an aged voice emerged. "Aiden, if you would be so kind as to come to my office. Oh, and perhaps employ a bit of... discretion upon your arrival. The password is 'Sherbet Lemon'."
With that, the Patronus dissipated, giving Aiden no chance to ask questions.
He made his way to the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office, spoke the password, and slipped into a conscious blind spot. He ascended the spiral staircase and entered the office, completely unseen.
Inside, Gilderoy Lockhart was passionately expounding on the grand prospects of his newest idea. Aiden quietly walked to the sofa and sat down, sending a subtle pulse of his mental energy toward Dumbledore, who acknowledged his presence with a nearly imperceptible nod.
"...and you see, Headmaster," Lockhart was saying, "this world is full of danger, and our young wizards are simply too complacent! Their spellcasting level is hardly better than a Cornish Pixie's. They need guidance. And perhaps the person who knows the most about dueling—me—should host a Dueling Club." He finished with a confident smile and a flash of his sparkling teeth.
Dumbledore shot Aiden a look that screamed, 'Help me.'
Aiden gave a subtle, encouraging nod, as if to say, 'You can handle this.'
Dumbledore's gaze became more urgent. 'Save me!'
Lockhart seemed to notice the headmaster's strange gaze and followed his line of sight to the sofa, but unfortunately, he saw nothing. "Oh, what is it, Headmaster?" he asked, confused.
Snap.
With a crisp snap of Aiden's fingers, Lockhart fell into a deep, instantaneous sleep. He swayed on his feet for a moment before tumbling down the short set of stairs, his handsome face making intimate contact with the stone floor.
'Hmph,' Aiden thought with a smirk. 'How dare he use the same adjective—handsome—as me?'
[Ding. Yours is 'beautiful.']
'Shut up!'
"Oh, Aiden," Dumbledore said, though there was no distress in his voice. "You were too harsh. Look at the poor boy, his head is swollen from the fall."
Aiden walked over to the unconscious Lockhart and pulled a small, black notebook from his robes. "Here," Aiden said, tossing it onto the desk. "A souvenir from one of your most... outstanding students."
"This is Tom's..." Dumbledore murmured, carefully examining the diary. "It seems we will need to find a way to destroy it." As he spoke, Aiden saw the old headmaster discreetly carve a few runes into the notebook's cover, which quickly merged with the dark magic of the object.
"Alright, stop playing," Aiden said, mercilessly exposing him. "My knowledge of alchemy came from you. You didn't really expect that little trick to fool me, did you? Besides, there are plenty of ways to destroy this thing. You can get the Sword of Gryffindor anytime you wish, can't you? And Fiendfyre... don't tell me you haven't researched your old flame's signature spell?"
Aiden raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore dropped the pretense. "Don't be so harsh on an old man," he sighed. "And it's always good to give Harry a bit of exercise."
Aiden burrowed into the sofa, curling up like a cat in its favorite nest. "Alright, tell me, when did you realize there was something wrong with Lockhart?"
"From the very beginning, Aiden," Dumbledore replied. "As the headmaster of this school, I have a few small privileges."
"So, how do you plan to arrange the next challenge for your Savior?" Aiden asked, propping his legs up on the coffee table. The casual gesture made the corner of Dumbledore's eye twitch.
"I won't do anything," Dumbledore said, his half-moon eyes glinting. "On Tom's Horcrux, I have merely added a little... guidance. To make him focus his attention wholeheartedly on Harry and his friends." For a moment, he exuded an aura of pure, calculating coldness.
"Hah. That's really too bad for them," Aiden commented, then stood up to leave. Dumbledore casually tossed the diary, and it flew back into Lockhart's robes.
"Wait, Aiden," Dumbledore called out.
"Is there something else?" Aiden turned his head, confused.
"Ahem, well," Professor Dumbledore said awkwardly, pointing at the snoring figure on the floor. "Wake him up."
Snap. Another snap of Aiden's fingers echoed through the office, and Lockhart woke from his deep sleep.
"Ugh, I seem to have a bit of a headache," he groaned, holding his head. "And why can't I feel my face?"
"I believe you must be exhausted, Professor Lockhart," Dumbledore said, his expression full of doubt. "So tired. Do you still have the energy to manage a Dueling Club?"
"Oh, of course I have the energy, Headmaster! No one is more energetic than I am! Perhaps... I still need an assistant." Lockhart's eyes darted around as he mentally reviewed the four Heads of House.
'Professor McGonagall? No, too skilled in Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick? A Dueling Champion, definitely not. Professor Sprout? Bullying a lady would be most ungentlemanly. Ah, Snape! Perfect. A Potions master who stays holed up in his dark dungeon all year. He must be weak and frail. He's the one.'
"Well, Headmaster," he announced, "there may be many students when the club opens. To ensure their safety, I hope to have Professor Snape serve as my assistant."
In a corner where Lockhart couldn't see, the corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, threatening to break into a grin he was desperately trying to suppress. "Oh, of course you can. For the safety of the students," he said, then added, "Are you quite certain you want Severus to help you?"
But Lockhart, having already completed his own flawless logical loop, didn't notice the subtle warning. "No problem, Headmaster! Just wait for my good news!" He patted his chest proudly and walked out of the office.
"Hmph," a voice scoffed from a nearby portrait. "As expected of the great Albus Dumbledore, always playing his games." It was Phineas Nigellus Black. The other portraits in the room immediately shushed him.
Amidst the clamor of the former headmasters, Dumbledore took out the Elder Wand and tapped it in the air. A silver phoenix appeared.
"Severus," Dumbledore said to the Patronus, "Gilderoy Lockhart is preparing to host a Dueling Club and may ask you to be his assistant. I hope you will watch over him and not let him teach the young wizards any... unauthorized magic."
The phoenix bowed its head and flew out of the office.
Down in the dungeons, in Snape's private office, a silver phoenix flew in. Snape, receiving the message, showed a truly chilling smile.
(End of Chapter)
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