Chapter 297: The Faint Gaze

In the following days, Lockhart’s reputation underwent a slight shift.

Previously, when he entered the Great Hall, the witch girls’ chatter would swell noticeably; now, the witches themselves sometimes tried to avoid him.

Saturday.

The Great Hall.

Wizard Sean sipped his steaming pumpkin porridge, its cloying sweetness often reminding him of the soft, sweet potatoes beside the hearth on winter nights.

Owls flew into the dim, vaulted ceiling, parcels falling like rain.

Around him, Harry wearily responded to Colin; for Colin, the most thrilling thing in the world seemed to be saying “How are you, Harry?” six or seven times a day and hearing “Hi, Colin” in return, no matter how weary or irritated Harry’s tone was.

Hermione planned to burn all of Lockhart’s books with fire, but Jia Jia Siting talked her out of it.

“My mother says that knowledge is never guilty, no matter the circumstances.”

Neville carefully studied the Fire Charm in his Standard Spellbook; somehow, he no longer merely hoped others would help him.

Especially when that person was most likely Wizard Sean.

Ron was visibly excited—he was sneaking out of Hogwarts tonight to buy a wand in Diagon Alley.

But he had to be extra careful, not to cause Wizard Sean any trouble.

The group gathered in the Hut had, without realizing it, spent a year bound together—or rather, connected by some young witch.

Wizard Sean unconsciously turned his gaze toward Gryffindor’s table, where a sweet little witch was enthusiastically chatting with her companion.

They both held animated black cat cards, chattering away.

Wizard Sean glanced at Ginny’s journal on the table; he sensed the malice within had grown stronger.

Sometimes it even stabbed his eyes like needles.

Meanwhile, Ginny herself had begun to carry an aura that disturbed the Soul Relic.

Wizard Sean knew that just as he could sense Voldemort, young Voldemort could also detect him through unknown means.

They had discovered each other as early as the Sorting Ceremony.

The difference was that Tom didn’t know what he intended to do, while Wizard Sean clearly knew how to destroy the journal.

But…

Tom seemed to be growing desperate—he likely used some coercive method to harm Ginny’s soul.

Wizard Sean felt a slight urgency, but he would not allow himself to panic.

Speed up the pace—tonight, if undetected, he would find the Chamber’s entrance.

Wizard Sean thought to himself.

Dew clung to the grass outside Hogwarts Castle; even though the sun had risen high, faint mist still hovered over the Quidditch pitch.

Several Quidditch players, wrapped in blue-and-white scarves, stepped out—they looked as if they had just finished training.

Wizard Sean’s head was hidden behind a book as he passed them.

“First-years have already finished Flying class—still no Seeker for us?”

Roger Davies tugged at his scarf, impatiently.

“You’re looking for someone like Rodry Plentton—Davies, he’s the absolute core of the Tutshill Tornados, a five-time League Cup champion—”

His teammate stared at him in disbelief.

“Cut him some slack—he took over when Ravenclaw was Quidditch champion;

the moment he took charge, Ravenclaw collapsed instantly… well, now everyone knows whose fault it is.”

Said the Quidditch player named Toya dramatically.

“Now I appoint you to recruit—Toya—when Ravenclaw loses again, people will know last year we added a powerful core, but this year we added nothing.”

Roger’s veins bulged as he slapped a recruitment badge onto Toya’s arm—now one person’s suffering became two.

Wizard Sean silently quickened his pace toward Hagrid’s Hut.

His Material Transfiguration was just one hundred proficiency points away from reaching [Skilled], meaning less than a week of training.

Entry-level proficiency required prolonged incantation, but [Skilled] drastically shortened the time; at Expert level, it became instantaneous.

This pattern had already been confirmed with Dark Magic and spells.

Outside Hagrid’s Hut, the pumpkins in the patch had swollen to the size of trellises.

Hagrid, looking furious, was about to step out; when he saw Wizard Sean, his face instantly brightened.

“Wizard Sean, how have you been? Come in, come in—I just thought Lockhart had come back again.”

Wizard Sean entered the hut with some confusion; one corner held a massive bed, the other a fire crackling merrily.

“You won’t believe it—he actually taught me how to keep water sprites out of the well,”

Hagrid grumbled, taking a half-plucked rooster from a spotless table and setting down a teapot.

“As if I didn’t already know. He bragged about how he banished female ghosts—if even one word of that is true, I’ll eat the teapot.”

Wizard Sean imagined Hagrid’s teeth really could swallow a teapot, then noticed the rooster—its body bore more than just slaughter wounds.

“Is it injured?”

Wizard Sean asked.

“Yes, it’s the second one killed since term started,”

he explained,

“Either a fox or a vampire—I need the Headmaster’s permission to cast a charm around the chicken coop.”

Wizard Sean fell silent.

Tom clearly wielded an extremely unusual form of Dark Magic; less than two weeks into term, he was already forcing Ginny to slaughter roosters.

Wizard Sean had reason to believe his urgency was tied to himself.

Thus, the young wizard’s gaze grew deeper.

He needed to prepare something that could track Ginny’s movements.

He had originally thought it would be the Plan Map, but that night, he found a better option.

…

It was a pitch-black, storm-clouded night.

Since early October, the weather had grown colder, rain had increased, and nights had turned darker.

Ron peered around the corridor corner, alert for Filch and Mrs. Norris.

In fact, Mrs. Norris was perched on Wizard Sean’s shoulder; Ron turned and nearly fainted.

“S-Wizard Sean—”

He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth.

“I explained your situation to Mr. Filch.”

Wizard Sean said.

Ron was in a daze—could he say that?

“Great Mr. Green—”

Fred poked his head out from behind a lifted portrait, then ducked back upon seeing Mrs. Norris.

“Your loyal follower comes—”

George’s smile vanished instantly; he too pulled back.

“Looks like he’s not loyal?”

Ron unconsciously mimicked George’s tone,

“Your loyal follower has left—”