Chapter 161. Lockhart Petrified
Gilderoy Lockhart never noticed Harry and Neville hiding in the shadows. Only after Lockhart's footsteps had completely faded did Harry start trying to make sense of what he had just said.
Neville, trembling, tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Shall… shall we go in?"
Harry came back to himself and nodded. "Mm. Let's go in. Quick, and keep quiet."
He pulled Neville along and gently pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.
The Great Hall hadn't been tidied yet. The duelling platform was still there, and there were scraps of robes and feathers scattered on the floor—most likely left by the students.
Perhaps Lockhart had asked the house-elves to clean up the mess; by tomorrow the Hall would probably be back to normal.
"Hurry and look," Harry urged.
The two of them lowered their heads and searched around, circling the Hall with careful steps.
However, after searching for a long time, they still hadn't found anything useful. Neville returned to Harry, a bit dejected, and whispered, "I've turned over everything on the floor—I even checked under the stage… there's nothing."
Harry frowned. "Maybe someone's already picked it up."
"Then what do we do?" Neville scratched his head.
"We'll ask a Professor tomorrow," Harry said helplessly. "Let's hope whoever picked it up will hand the wand to a Professor."
At that, Neville's face immediately went even paler. "If my gran finds out I lost my wand, she'll give me a proper telling-off!"
"There'll be a way," Harry said, patting Neville on the shoulder.
With that, Harry took Neville out of the Great Hall and back to the common room.
Nothing happened along the way.
The next day, Harry got up early.
For some reason, when he'd tried to rest last night, he had been plagued by a strange, inexplicable flutter of panic.
When he came into the common room, there were dark circles under his eyes.
Unexpectedly, someone was up even earlier.
Hermione.
She was sitting quietly in the comfiest armchair, reading—a perk of the common room being nearly empty, with no one to contend with her for the spot.
"Morning, Hermione," Harry said, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.
Without looking up, Hermione answered, her fingers turning pages swiftly—she was clearly engrossed.
Harry was about to head to the kitchens to find something to eat when he suddenly noticed a wand lying on the coffee table in front of Hermione—a very familiar-looking wand.
"That's…" Harry stepped closer, studying it.
Only then did Hermione look up, following his gaze. "Oh, that. I forgot to tell you—when I went to the courtyard this morning, I ran into Luna Lovegood."
"The courtyard?" Harry said in surprise. "What were you doing there?"
"Practising spells," Hermione replied succinctly. "Anyway, that's not important. Luna said she found this wand in the Great Hall. Remember last night? Neville said he happened to lose one…"
Harry picked up the wand and examined it carefully. It was indeed Neville's.
"Neville's still asleep in the dormitory," he said. "We'll tell him when he wakes up."
Hermione nodded and turned her attention back to her book.
Harry glanced at the time on the wall. It was half-past six.
Which meant it was barely light out when Hermione had gone to the courtyard to practise spells—and after finishing, she'd come back to the common room to read.
Mm… it was bitterly cold outside just now.
It might start snowing heavily in a few days. Harry couldn't help feeling a bit impressed with Hermione; no wonder she got such good marks.
But what about Luna?
What was she doing in the courtyard?
Ron hadn't gotten up yet, and Hermione wanted to finish the book in her hands.
Judging by how thick it was, Harry thought it might take her the whole day.
So he set off to the dining hall alone. The Hogwarts house-elves were always on standby, and now was a perfect time for breakfast.
Harry walked by himself through the empty corridors of the early morning. The castle's chill made him pull his robes tighter, and his breath puffed white in front of him.
When he reached the third-floor corridor, a low, hoarse, familiar voice slipped into his head.
"So hungry… so hungry… food…"
Harry stopped dead.
The voice—it was identical to the one he'd heard during the Hallowe'en feast!
"Who's there!" Harry drew his wand from his belt, his voice shaking slightly.
Wand-use wasn't allowed in the corridors, but this was a special moment—he couldn't worry about that now.
Of course, there was no reply.
Only Harry's own breathing sounded especially loud in the silent corridor.
Then the voice spoke out of nowhere again: "Rip… tear…"
Harry listened in place for a moment. The voice was coming from the courtyard!
The very spot where Rai had been attacked!
And… this morning Hermione had mentioned that Luna had been wandering about the courtyard at first light.
At that thought, Harry gripped his wand and tore off towards the courtyard at a run.
His footsteps echoed through the corridor, startling several portraits on the walls.
"Oi! You little scamp! What are you dashing about for at the crack of dawn!" grumbled a knight in a nightcap from his frame.
Harry hadn't time to apologise. Turning a corner, he collided with a suit of armour, which clanged loudly.
"Sorry!"
When Harry finally reached the ground-floor corridor, he caught sight of a small figure.
Was that… Luna?
Harry stopped, but Luna swept past him like a gust of wind, hurrying along without even noticing him.
"Luna!" Harry turned and called. "What's happened?"
But Luna had already vanished around the corner, leaving only a trail of hurried footsteps.
Harry hesitated for a second, then decided to keep running towards the courtyard.
Something must have happened there.
He reached the courtyard. The morning wind hit him with its cold, and the place lay utterly still.
In the dawn light, a golden figure stood out—Lockhart, frozen in place with his arms spread wide, collapsed beneath a tree whose leaves were rimed with ice.
Harry was stunned on the spot.
Clearly, he had been Petrified—exactly the same as Rai had been that day.
Only this time, it was a Professor who'd been attacked.
Harry rushed to Lockhart's side and found his expression fixed in an extremely exaggerated look of terror, his eyeballs bulging as if he were a hammy actor.
"Merlin…" Harry drew in a sharp breath.
He touched Lockhart; the body still felt warm.
Which meant Lockhart had only just been Petrified.
Harry came back to himself and immediately searched the area—the attacker most likely hadn't gone far yet.
However, after circling the courtyard, he found nothing out of the ordinary.
He took one last look at Lockhart's ludicrous Petrified pose, then spun and sprinted back towards the castle—he had to tell the Professors!
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