"The easiest way to tell magical creatures from fantastic beasts is whether only people with magic can truly see them," Lockhart said, trying to keep things simple and avoid diving into complex theories. He wanted the young witches and wizards to grasp the basics. "Muggles can't see ghosts, Dementors, or ghouls, but they can see centaurs, bowtruckles, or kelpies."
"See? It's straightforward and practical," he added, clapping his hands. "Crystal clear."
"You'll learn more about defending against dark creatures and caring for fantastic beasts in future classes, and you'll pick up specific ways to handle each. When you face these non-human beings, this distinction will help you figure out which approach to take."
"Second point: magical properties."
"Fantastic beasts have magic that's a lot like ours. You could even say ancient wizards learned a ton of spellcasting tricks from them. Take the kneazle, for example—it's born with a kind of Legilimency, reading thoughts. Or the bowtruckle, which can naturally Apparate."
"Magical creatures, though, aren't exactly casting spells like wizards do. They are magic. Their abilities fall into the realm of 'rules.'"
Lockhart's expression turned cryptic as he continued. "Take house-elves. Their teleportation, similar to Apparition, is unbound by most wizarding magic. It ignores our barriers unless we deliberately create a 'rule' to block their 'rule.'"
The young witches and wizards gasped in unison. Clearly, they'd never realized house-elves were that powerful.
Lockhart tapped the blackboard. "Third point: biology."
"Fantastic beasts follow the natural patterns of animals—birth, aging, illness, death, reproduction. They have genders, form groups, and have populations."
"Magical creatures? They don't. No strict gender, no populations, no reproduction, no life cycle."
He knocked on Draco's desk, pointing to his assignment on Dementors. "Take Dementors. You'll never hear about them falling in love or having little Dementor babies."
"Oh!" Draco scrunched up his face and leaned away from his parchment. "Yeah, that'd be weird!"
Lockhart grinned, giving them a moment to digest the three points. It wasn't hard to understand, and he could tell they were getting it.
After a pause, he went on. "Wizards, let's be honest, can be a bit arrogant. We don't classify these creatures based on how powerful they are."
He scribbled a line on the blackboard, tapped it, and read aloud, "We classify them by how dangerous they are to wizards!"
"Fantastic beasts are ranked in five danger levels, which you'll learn about in Care of Magical Creatures next year. But here's the key thing: if we find a way to handle a fantastic beast—say, invent a spell to counter it—its danger level drops, regardless of its actual strength."
"The same goes for magical creatures."
Lockhart set the blackboard down, his face serious as he looked at them. "Since they're made of magic, we divide their magic into 'normal' and 'dark.' Magic that causes negative emotions in wizards? That's dark magic, and those are dark creatures."
"This distinction makes it easy to figure out what makes a 'dark creature.'"
Hermione's face scrunched up. "So, everything's judged by wizard standards?"
"Exactly," Lockhart nodded. "That's why we call it the wizarding world, not the magical world. It's the International Confederation of Wizards, not Magic."
"That's not fair!" Hermione protested, clearly unhappy.
"But it's the truth," Lockhart said with a bright smile. "When you can't change the world, you accept the reality you're given."
"Alright, let's dig deeper."
He didn't want to linger on basic concepts. "You probably noticed something: house-elves are magical creatures, but they also have the biological traits of fantastic beasts. They're born, age, get sick, die, and even reproduce."
Draco, Pansy, and other students from families with house-elves nodded eagerly.
"There's no formal study on this yet, no field dedicated to it," Lockhart said, holding up the blackboard again and pointing to the three distinctions. "But there's definitely a gray area between fantastic beasts and magical creatures."
"Here's my theory—you can jot it down and test it yourselves someday." He wrote a final phrase in the corner: Wizarding Life.
"House-elves were originally called 'household elves,' tied to wizard homes, working for food. By being so involved in wizarding life, they started shifting from magical creatures toward fantastic beasts, landing somewhere in between."
"If you've been to the Ministry, you've seen the Fountain of Magical Brethren. It shows centaurs, goblins, and house-elves deeply woven into human history—part of what you could call a 'wizarding fairy tale.'"
"The same thing happens with dark creatures involved in wizarding life. Take the Dementors at Azkaban—they've developed some ability to communicate."
He picked up Harry's notebook, holding it up. "The Basilisk is a perfect case study."
"It's a deliberate wizarding experiment to turn a fantastic beast into a dark creature."
He set the notebook down with a slight grimace. "But it's a failed experiment."
"According to old records, a Basilisk is created when a seven-year-old rooster lays a magical egg under Sirius's star, incubated by a toad. In dark creature classifications, that falls under 'against-common-sense entities.'"
Lockhart waved his hand, and a golden blur leaped from a nearby tree, landing on his shoulder. The little golden creature blinked its shimmering eyes at the students.
A wave of fear and despair washed over them, freezing them in place as if gripped by something unspeakable.
The effect vanished quickly, and the creature grabbed a biscuit from Lockhart before darting back into the dense foliage.
The students gasped collectively. Even Hermione, who'd felt this before, struggled with the lingering terror.
"That's the hallmark of an 'against-common-sense' creature!" Lockhart's voice rang out. "Their existence defies what wizards understand as normal, shattering our perception of the world in an instant, leaving us unable to react."
"The Basilisk is a monster born from an against-common-sense approach."
"But its creators were too greedy. They wanted the immortality of a dark creature and the reproduction of a fantastic beast. The result? It's stuck in a blurry middle ground, inheriting the worst of both worlds."
"An against-common-sense creature should collapse a person's mind just by being seen, but the Basilisk can't. Wizards don't freeze or die from glimpsing its massive serpentine body. It needs eye-to-eye contact, invading the 'windows of the soul' to twist the mind and cause death."
Lockhart grinned, looking at them intently. "So, here's the question: knowing the Basilisk's half-baked dark creature traits, how do we defend against it?"
Hermione's hand shot up. "Don't look into its eyes!"
"Good," Lockhart nodded, then glanced around. "Any other ideas?"
The students racked their brains. In the corner, Neville opened his mouth but hesitated, too shy to speak.
"Neville, go ahead," Lockhart encouraged.
Neville's face turned red as everyone looked at him. "Um… prevent… prevent your mind from collapsing?"
"Yes!" Lockhart laughed heartily. "The best answer!"
Neville's eyes lit up, stunned that his answer was the winner. The attention from his classmates made him blush again.
Thankfully, Lockhart continued, drawing their focus. "A clear sense of right and wrong, a positive outlook, and unshakable courage—those are the answers. With a strong enough mind, you could stare at a Basilisk forever, and its gaze wouldn't touch you."
"That's also the best way to resist dark magic's effects on us."
"I know, it's tough," he said, shrugging. "It takes constant work to strengthen your mind and being in the right mental state. We all have bad days when we're at our lowest, and then it's nearly impossible."
"So, we can also use magical tools or potions to help."
He raised an eyebrow. "Take Gryffindor's sword, for example. Legend says it grants unparalleled courage, but only to those already brave enough to earn its favor."
"The sword seems a bit redundant—giving courage to the already courageous to face the unreasonable. It's not always useful, but it's perfect for facing a Basilisk."
As for why Gryffindor's sword counters Slytherin's Basilisk, well, some topics were best left unsaid to young students.
Lockhart smiled warmly at the eight young witches and wizards. He genuinely hoped they'd take his words to heart.
He didn't know if Dumbledore would choose Harry Potter, the "fairy-tale hero," to face the Basilisk alone as a test or set less demanding expectations.
But if not, maybe guiding this group of students to confront the Basilisk together would be the best approach.
As a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, what better proof of his teaching than a team of talented students taking down a half-baked dark creature?
Honestly, Lockhart wasn't fazed by the Basilisk. It was well within his expertise.
The only real challenge was the curse Voldemort had placed on the Defense position—a curse so powerful that even Dumbledore and his vast network couldn't break it. That was the real threat.
read more inpatreon
ilham20