Watching the dwarfs waddle into the Great Hall, Sean sighed deeply. He knew all too well that Lockhart's torment wasn't over yet.
Each dwarf had a ridiculous pair of golden wings strapped to their back and carried a tiny golden harp. Under Lockhart's absurd Valentine's Day plan, these dwarfs were assigned to deliver "love cards" to students—loudly and dramatically—turning the castle into a living nightmare of public embarrassment.
After finishing his meal, Sean stood and prepared to leave the hall quietly.
But Lockhart's minions were already on the move.
As one of the more popular targets—thanks to the sheer number of Valentine's cards he'd received—Sean was quickly spotted. Three dwarfs rushed toward him, harps wobbling, parchment in hand, ready to read out sappy verses at the top of their lungs.
Without missing a beat, Sean drew his wand and gave it a sharp wave.
The pink flower garlands decorating the walls immediately transformed into satin ribbons that whipped through the air, wrapping around the startled dwarfs and pinning them to the wall. Bound and dangling like unfortunate gift-wrapped ornaments, the dwarfs shouted and wriggled—but Sean didn't spare them a glance. He turned and walked out of the hall with perfect indifference.
Lockhart, witnessing the scene, rushed over with a nervous smile and his wand raised. "Now, now, let's not panic!" he declared.
Unfortunately, Lockhart's magic once again betrayed him. His spell tightened the ribbons instead of loosening them, making the dwarfs screech in pain and instantly shattering whatever illusion of romance remained in the Great Hall.
From his seat at the staff table, a faint, rare smile tugged at Snape's lips. Even Professor McGonagall allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk as she ended breakfast with a firm clap.
With Sean's example, many Hogwarts students began to take action against the dwarfs who came after them. As a result, before the morning was over, the twelve dwarfs were all injured. They threw away their wings and harps, and went on strike and left Hogwarts, leaving Lockhart humiliated.
However, the dwarfs' strike seemed to have no effect on Lockhart at all. He continued strutting through the corridors with his usual dazzling smile, parading himself like a peacock in full display. But the moment he stepped back into his office and closed the door behind him, the smile vanished.
His face darkened.
With a scowl, he snatched the teacup from his desk and hurled it to the floor.
Crash!
"Sean Bulstrode! Sean Bulstrode! That arrogant brat! That damn bastard!"
Lockhart wasn't made of clay. He wasn't some harmless fool without a temper. Sean had embarrassed him in front of the whole school more than once, and Lockhart wasn't stupid—he saw it all. If he truly were that foolish, he would never have mastered the Obliviate charm to such a terrifying level.
No, Lockhart had been playing the fool deliberately.
After all, no one takes a fool seriously. No one holds a clown accountable. They laugh, they point, they dismiss.
And that suited him just fine. It was easier to survive in plain sight when people assumed you were harmless.
Taking a long breath, Lockhart forced himself to calm down. He flicked his wand with practiced flair, casting three separate charms before the shattered teacup was finally cleaned up.
He sank into his chair.
From the stack of greeting cards and fan letters on his desk, he began to pick through them. This was his favorite ritual—reading the praise, the admiration, the flowery affirmations of his greatness. It helped him remember who he was supposed to be.
Most of the letters were the same—predictable lines, repeated praise, tired flattery.
Until one stood out.
It looked perfectly ordinary on the outside, but when Lockhart read its contents, his expression shifted—then brightened into elation.
The letter was from a young admirer. She wrote that she had always believed in him, always admired his books and his brilliance. She referenced obscure passages from his earlier works, little moments Lockhart was particularly proud of—but had never found the time to brag about to his students.
That alone was enough to lift his spirits. Finally, someone who truly gets me.
Unlike that insufferable little upstart—Sean Bulstrode—this was a real fan. A genuine admirer.
But then he read further.
The tone of the letter changed.
The girl claimed she had accidentally discovered a mysterious location deep within Hogwarts—one unknown to professors or students. A place that housed a terrifying secret. She had found… the basilisk.
And more than that—there was a way to control it.
She was frightened, unsure what to do, and had decided to entrust her secret to the one person she believed could handle it.
To the one she admired most:
Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.
Lockhart stared at the letter, eyes gleaming.
This was it.
This was his next book.
This would bring him back.
His fingers trembled with excitement as he whispered the title aloud to himself, savoring each word:
"Duel with the Hogwarts Basilisk."
Lockhart thought the title was brilliant. "Duel with the Hogwarts Basilisk"—bold, mysterious, and heroic. Just the kind of story to revive his dwindling fame and turn the spotlight back in his favor.
After double-checking the location mentioned in the letter, Lockhart was ready to rush off immediately. But then he hesitated.
It was still too early in the day. Too many students in the corridors, too many watchful eyes. If he wanted to investigate this place quietly, he'd have to wait until nightfall. He could always use the excuse of patrolling the school—after all, what professor would question such admirable diligence?