"Tom, why aren't you chanting along? Professor Lockhart has been looking at you several times."
Seeing Tom staring blankly at the Cornish Pixie in front of him, Draco kindly whispered a reminder.
"Do you think I need to practice Crucio?"
Tom felt that Draco had asked such a stupid question, he really didn't know how Lucius had taught him.
However, thinking about how he, as a good student, should set an example, especially not to lose face in front of this 'Gilderoy Lockhart' whose background was unknown, so…
"Crucio!"
Unlike the young Wizards who were still struggling to practice and find their entry, with one Crucio from Tom, the Cornish Pixie immediately let out the most piercing scream in the entire classroom, and a moment later became Dying.
The young Wizards who witnessed all this shivered involuntarily, and Draco realized what a foolish question he had asked.
"Clap… Clap… Clap…"
Just as the entire classroom fell silent, a sudden round of applause broke out, and Lockhart was seen clapping while looking at Tom with an admiring gaze.
"Perfect Crucio, Slytherin gets ten points."
It was unclear whether they were stimulated by Tom or simply rebellious by nature, but in the subsequent practice, the little snakes of Slytherin and the little eagles of Ravenclaw burst forth with twelve points of enthusiasm, even showing strange excited smiles on their faces, and for a time, the piercing screams of Cornish Pixies continuously echoed throughout the classroom.
If Professor Flitwick were to find out, this old Professor would probably be scolding them. He never saw them so active in learning Charms in Charms Class, but now in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, practicing the Unforgivable Curses, they were all like they had been injected with chicken blood. What were they trying to do, play with him?
The young Wizards wouldn't consider Professor Flitwick's feelings if he found out. For them, if Tom's Killing Curse teaching small class was excluded, this was the best Black Magic Defense Class they had ever attended, bar none.
Even when the bell for class dismissal rang, the young Wizards were still not satisfied, and even voluntarily offered to take their Cornish Pixies with them to continue practicing well after returning home.
"Of course, children, and by the way, I have no essays or tests for this Black Magic Defense Class. Next class, I will check your Crucio practice results, and those who practice well will be rewarded."
After Lockhart finished his announcement, the little snakes and little eagles' gazes towards him changed. At this moment, a golden halo seemed to appear above Lockhart's head, forming a stark contrast with the image of a certain fellow named Tom Riddle.
'Professor Lockhart is a good person!'
At this moment, the young Wizards rarely reached a consensus.
As the young Wizards left the classroom one after another, Tom sent Cassandra and the others away first, staying behind alone to wait for Lockhart.
"Mr. Riddle, do you need anything else?"
Lockhart, who had finished packing his things, smiled and asked Tom, who was the only one left in the classroom.
"There is indeed something I want to talk to you about, Professor, regarding who you really are."
Tom didn't hide anything and went straight to the point. Tom already had a guess in his mind about the person in front of him, but the answer was too outrageous to be certain.
"About who I am, that is indeed a good question." Lockhart didn't answer Tom directly. Instead, he took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, "It just so happens to be lunchtime now, how about you join me for lunch?"
After speaking, Lockhart left the classroom directly, and Tom followed without hesitation.
Lockhart led Tom back to his office, had a House-elf deliver two lunches, and after taking a sip of red wine, he got straight to the point.
"Long time no see, Tom. Last time, I didn't have the chance to sit down and have lunch with you so peacefully."
Tom frowned slightly, thought it over carefully in his mind again, and then shook his head, denying, "I'm sorry, Professor, I don't recall having any contact with you before this semester, and this is our first time alone, or rather, you are not Professor Lockhart."
Lockhart swallowed the small piece of steak in his mouth and spoke softly, "Yes, Tom, in Paris in 1927, that left a deep impression on me to this day."
Upon hearing this, Tom almost spat out the pumpkin juice he had just taken a sip of, exclaiming, "This is impossible!"
A person who shouldn't have appeared here, upon speaking, mentioned something that shouldn't have existed. For Tom, the impact was quite significant.
"Calm down, child." 'Lockhart' reached out and comforted Tom, "You mean that history hasn't changed, right?"
Tom opened his mouth but made no sound, clearly hit by what 'Lockhart' said.
"Indeed, the history of this world has not changed. You can just think of it as an old man having a dream, a dream about another timeline."
Hearing 'Lockhart' speak so directly, Tom pretty much understood. It was probably everything that happened in the timeline he was taken to by the practical crystal, and for some unknown reason, someone perceived it in the form of a dream, which led to this whole play.
Having understood this, Tom calmed down again and looked directly at 'Lockhart', saying, "So that's it. Then why are you here? Could it be that you're not satisfied, Mr. Gellert Grindelwald?"
Grindelwald's action of cutting the steak paused. This was the first time he had experienced the power of Tom's sharp tongue outside of a dream. He suddenly felt a little sorry for Dumbledore. Albus, you've worked hard.
After a moment of silence, Grindelwald slowly spoke, "It's just that I, an old man, wanted to see Dumbledore's favorite student named Tom Riddle before I die."
It was another reason that even Ron wouldn't believe, comparable to his old lover's, Tom silently scorned him in his heart.
He then stopped dwelling on this topic, after all, the fox's tail would always show itself. As for now, Tom was quite interested in the other person: "So, Professor Grindelwald, I wonder what you did to Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"Gilderoy Lockhart, ah, I took good care of him."
Nurmengard, High Tower.
A gaunt old man was desperately banging on the cell door: "Let me out! Where is this? Do you know who I am? I am Gilderoy Lockhart—recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Arts Defense League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, and internationally renowned author!"
"Let me out quickly!"
A guard slowly walked to Lockhart's cell and watched Lockhart jumping up and down with a smile: "Gilderoy Lockhart? No, no, no, from now on, you are Gellert Grindelwald."
Upon hearing this, Lockhart banged on the cell door even harder: "No, you can't do this! I am Gilderoy Lockhart, not Gellert Grindelwald! Let me out quickly!"
Unfortunately, Lockhart's actions only drew laughter, and the guards at the door seemed to be convinced that he was Gellert Grindelwald.
And the guard who was speaking to Lockhart at this moment even pulled out a Saint's badge from his pocket and dangled it in front of him: "For the Greater Good, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Lockhart?"
At this moment, Lockhart's face turned completely ashen.
But the guard clearly had no intention of letting him off so easily: "Given how much you're stirring up, I don't mind giving you a small gift."
"Obliviate!"