Consciousness was fading.
Sounds were muffled, as if he were underwater.
His vision was blurry, like looking through steam, unable to form a clear image.
His thoughts wouldn't connect, as if his mind was burning with a fever.
*Who am I?*
As if his spirit had left his body, a sense of aimless wandering enveloped him, floating in his own little universe.
*Where am I?*
Only after drifting for a long time in that unknown space was he able to recall his name.
*Ah, right. My name was Draco Malfoy.*
Once he remembered his name, the rest came easily. Like a line of dominoes, once the first one fell, the others toppled in a chain reaction as his memories began to return.
Draco Malfoy was the sole heir of the Malfoy family.
He was a pure-blood.
He was a student at Hogwarts.
Various other memories surfaced, but everything aside from his sense of self was faint, like trying to recall a dream.
In any case, having roughly remembered who he was, Malfoy pondered.
*I am Draco Malfoy. Then where is this place? What was I doing?*
Malfoy tried to recall his last memory.
He had certainly made some sort of contract with the Heir of Slytherin. What kind of contract was it? For some reason, he couldn't remember.
Then who was the Heir of Slytherin? Ah, yes. The diary containing the memory of Lord Voldemort. That was the great Heir of Slytherin.
The heir's goal was the extermination of inferior Muggle-born wizards. Inferior Muggle-borns? Who decided that? Why, the great Slytherin, of course. His ancestors. His parents.
*Is that really true?*
He dismissed the trivial question that popped into his mind.
So, what had he done?
He remembered up to the point of taunting the Granger mudblood. And then, a strangely unpleasant sound of a bell… no, he couldn't seem to remember that. More accurately, it felt like he shouldn't remember it.
And then… what happened next?
After struggling for a long time, Malfoy had a flash of insight. Of course, this insight didn't manifest as an audible sound.
Yes, he had definitely heard a voice in his head. A very familiar voice.
*Draco, come to the Chamber of Secrets.*
He had followed that familiar voice. And then… he couldn't remember.
Having thought that far, Malfoy let out a hollow laugh.
Malfoy may have been naive, but he was by no means a foolish person. Perhaps it was the power of the bloodline that flowed through the Malfoy family, but this was especially true when it came to dealing with people—in the field of what one might call 'politics.'
Furthermore, as he reflected on his life in this place, Malfoy felt less like he was recalling his own memories and more like he was observing the life of a third party.
It meant there was less room for his own biases to interfere.
In this moment, Draco's mind was like pure reason, untainted by reverence for Voldemort or hatred for Muggle-borns.
Looking back at his memories from this perspective, the conclusion was quite clear.
The diary imbued with a fragment of Lord Voldemort had used him.
And the result was this state, where he didn't even know if he was alive or dead.
That was the judgment of his reason, which was working much faster now than when it had been trapped in his physical body.
What was the cause?
Paradoxically, in this state of pure reason, Malfoy could not comprehend the motivation for his actions.
Why had he followed so blindly? For the current Malfoy, it was an unsolvable question.
But more importantly, that wasn't what mattered now. …So what would happen to him?
Was he going to die like this? No, more than that, was he even certain this state wasn't death?
As Malfoy contemplated all sorts of philosophical questions, a faint sense of weakness washed over his physical body.
*Weakness?* He definitely had no body, so how could he feel weak?
No sooner had he recognized the sensation than Malfoy felt his consciousness being pulled down into some deep place.
—*Do you still want to help him?*
—*Dying like this doesn't seem…*
He thought he heard a voice, but it was muffled as if his ears were full of water, and he couldn't make it out clearly.
—*Aisen, I think they're all starting to wake up.*
—*Alright, let's get them out of here.*
He heard voices speaking beside him, but he couldn't understand them. He was merely aware of the sound waves hitting his mind.
As he listened blankly, Malfoy had a sudden thought.
*Ah. Right.*
Was it because his body was once again constrained by the flesh? His heightened reason faded, and once again, dark, murky emotions began to cling to his mind.
Only then could Malfoy understand.
*I wanted to be acknowledged. By my father, by my family, by Slytherin. Or maybe, by everyone.*
The moment he finally remembered that fact, Malfoy's thoughts dissolved like foam.
***
After the long—well, not that long, but it felt long—battle was over, all that remained was the cleanup.
A short while later, while the kids were unconscious, I revived the victims with phoenix tears, sent Ardeura away (she was a little miffed), and then woke the kids back up.
It was strange how Hermione kept smirking at me, but I figured people sometimes get a little giddy with exhilaration after a real battle, so I let it slide.
However, a minor problem arose among the people who woke up.
Malfoy drooling blankly as if he'd taken some sort of drug was amusing, but the problem was elsewhere.
"Aha, the Chamber of Secrets! Yes! This is what you call an adventure! A perfect adventure story!"
Lockhart, whose memory seemed to be spotty, started spouting nonsense after being revived by Ardeura's tears.
"Are you serious?"
"Hahaha, my apologies. Harry, Miss Granger. And… the student I don't remember."
I let out a hollow laugh at his words. I hadn't missed the top spot in my year once, yet he couldn't even remember my name. In a way, that was truly impressive.
"I'm very grateful and sorry, but this kind of attention can be a great poison to you youngsters! Therefore, I, Lockhart, will bear the burden of your achievements for you!"
To put it simply, Lockhart was planning to hit us with a Memory Charm and take all the credit for the Chamber of Secrets incident. Of course, that was never going to happen.
Lockhart shouted, "Yes, Harry! You're first! Don't worry, it won't hurt a bit! You'll just wake up and it will all be over. Obliviate!"
*Flash!*
Was it because Harry was too exhausted to dodge, or was Lockhart's polished Memory Charm truly that impressive?
Lockhart's spell flew out with a flash of light and hit Harry squarely.
"Hahahaha! You're next, Miss Granger!"
"Are you sure about that?"
"Wh-what!"
But even though Lockhart's spell had hit Harry head-on, nothing happened.
Harry smirked. "Professor. Did you perhaps make a mistake with the spell?"
"Th-that's impossible! I've used Obliviate countless times! There's no way I'd make a mistak—Urgh!"
Before he could finish, a counter-spell from Harry sent Lockhart flying.
Watching this, Hermione frowned at Lockhart's words. "What do you mean by that, Professor? How many times would you have needed to use Obliviate?"
I said to her, "What do you think he means? It means Lockhart has been stealing achievements this way for his other books."
"…I see."
Surprisingly, Hermione accepted my words without any doubt.
It was Harry who was surprised, asking her cautiously, "Hermione. Are you… shocked to learn the truth about Lockhart?"
But contrary to Harry's expectations, Hermione smiled perfectly brightly and replied, "Yes, well… it's strange to say it now, but I already knew that Professor Lockhart—no, that Lockhart—wasn't that great of a person. Though I didn't think he was going around stealing achievements."
"Oh… right. But just a few days ago, you were—mph."
Hermione clapped a hand over Harry's mouth before he could say more, then glanced at me for a moment. "Besides, I don't need Lockhart anymore. I have something better now. For real."
"Ah…"
Harry then looked at me and nodded with a complicated expression.
Somehow sensing the mix of amusement, reproach, and bewilderment in his gaze, I asked, "Harry, what's that about?"
"Uh… it's nothing. I don't think it's my place to say."
*What is that supposed to mean?*
I felt the urge to use Legilimency to peek into Harry's mind, but I had something else to deal with first, so I put it off.
"Hahk… Heup!"
I walked over to the collapsed Lockhart and grabbed his face.
Lockhart contorted his handsome face into the most pathetic expression and pleaded with me. "Ha, haha, right. I remember now. Aisen, you're Aisen Potter, right? It was really unavoidable. If you were in my shoes…!"
I had no intention of listening to Lockhart's disgusting excuses any longer.
If he had just lived his life quietly as a professor at this school, I would have had no reason to bother him, but now that he had bared his claws at me and the others, the conclusion was merciless.
I glared at Lockhart, my golden eyes glowing. "Lockhart, look carefully into my eyes."
Of course, it would have been useless even if he tried not to look. I was holding his face in a tight grip.
"What is that, uwaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!"
And then, I showed Lockhart a tiny fraction of my 'memory.'
A memory steeped in blood, flesh, and magic.
I don't know what he saw, but less than three seconds after meeting my eyes, Lockhart was screaming madly and crawling on the ground.
"Wh-what is that dragon! It's going to bite me to death and tear me to shreds with its claws and put me on display! Save me, save me, save me!"
I decided to bestow mercy upon him.
"Lockhart, do you want to forget?"
"Of course! Please get this out of my head!"
"Then, erase your own memory."
At those words, Lockhart's movements stopped abruptly. Then, with a trembling hand, he pointed his wand at his temple and whispered quietly, "…Obliviate."
A look of peace finally spread across his face as Lockhart collapsed as if falling asleep.
Harry looked at the scene, disgusted. "What an absurd end."
"Indeed. I did like his knack for acquiring class materials, though."
"More importantly, are we taking Lockhart with us? Or should we leave him here?"
Having heard about Lockhart's deeds, Hermione now seemed to view him as no better than a Dark Wizard. She looked down at him with contempt as she asked.
After a moment's thought, I said, "He's physically fine, so if we leave him, won't he wake up and find his own way out?"
If it really becomes a problem, Albus will get him out. I didn't want to go through the trouble of carrying him all the way up.
The other two enthusiastically agreed, and so Lockhart's fate was sealed.
And so, carrying only one of Slytherin's ruffians as our prize, we returned to Hogwarts with the proud air of heroes who had vanquished a demon king.
—*Hisssssss!*
"Ah, right. You were here, too."
And we had adopted one of the culprits behind the incident, the monster of Slytherin, as a pet.
***