The Ministry of Magic often carried an air of arrogance, convinced that the world's most powerful wizards worked within its walls. They even believed Dumbledore would need to raise an army at Hogwarts to seize control of the Ministry!
Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Office, was far more grounded.
He wasn't just aware of the capabilities of top-tier wizards; he was pessimistic about the Ministry's strength compared to the broader wizarding world. Powerful wizards were scattered everywhere—pure-blood families, magical schools, international organizations, or hidden away in remote forests and mountains.
Among them, the Auror Office was most wary of dark wizards pushed to society's fringes, wielding devastatingly destructive dark magic.
Scrimgeour even suspected this was part of a sinister plot.
By barring magical schools and the Ministry from employing these dark wizards, and with society subtly squeezing their living space, these outcasts had little choice but to seek refuge under the wings of pure-blood families.
The chilling truth was that ancient pure-blood families preserved records of dark magic so potent it could be deemed "anti-human," even if casting such spells brought dire consequences to the caster.
Right now, Scrimgeour faced an unprecedented dark spell—one tearing through the Ministry's battle-tested, highly fortified magical carriage with terrifying speed.
This spell, cruelly powered by the lifeblood of a Thestral—a magical creature brimming with potent magic—was attacking the carriage relentlessly. Scrimgeour suspected certain groups hoarding this spell's knowledge had long planned to use it against the Ministry's Auror escorts.
His face grim, he watched the Thestral's blood envelop the carriage, sprouting more arms to claw at it, filling the air with a scorched stench and toxic fumes.
He reacted swiftly, casting counter-curses and the universal Finite Incantatem, but nothing worked.
It wasn't just him. Even the seasoned and powerful Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt tried multiple approaches, all ineffective.
"Damn it!" Scrimgeour cursed, glancing anxiously at his team outside, under attack. "We're trapped here!"
"It's Transfiguration, not a curse," Lockhart said suddenly from beside him.
"What?" Scrimgeour blinked, turning to him in confusion.
Lockhart shrugged. "No rule says Transfiguration can't include dark magic. Academically, it's a branch of Charms, and dark magic exists in both fields."
"The most common example is cursing someone into a pig. I'm sure you Aurors have handled plenty of cases involving illegal Transfiguration attacks."
"Nobody knows Defense Against the Dark Arts better than me. As a professor, I strongly suggest using the Scouring Charm to counter this seemingly powerful spell."
"It falls under the Vanishing Spell category, one of Transfiguration's five domains, designed to cleanse the most extreme impurities."
Scourgify? Against a dark spell this terrifying?
Was Lockhart out of his mind?
Scrimgeour found it absurd.
But Kingsley, who seemed to trust this supposed fraud more than Scrimgeour did, raised his wand and acted.
"Scourgify!"
The spell had no visible effect, but all three inside the carriage could feel the blood outside—sprouting countless arms—quivering violently, as if resisting Kingsley's charm.
"It's working!" Kingsley's eyes lit up. "Boss, it's working!"
No matter how ridiculous it seemed, Scrimgeour's eyes gleamed too. Without needing prompting, he waved his wand, unleashing a barrage of spells at the dark magic.
Finally, with their combined efforts, the blood mass emitted a piercing, shuddering scream and vanished completely.
Boom!
Scrimgeour kicked open the carriage door, gripping the frame and shouting to his team struggling outside. "Two of you, fly us out! The rest, go provide backup!"
Two Aurors on broomsticks swooped in. Scrimgeour and Kingsley leapt on, speeding toward the distant clouds.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Figures on broomsticks raced off.
The Thestral-drawn carriage was left hovering alone in the sky.
"Amateurs. Don't they know a diversion when they see one?" Lockhart tsked, noticing a wand left on the opposite seat.
His wand.
"Nice one, Kingsley."
Smiling, he raised his hand. A fuzzy golden creature appeared on the seat, snatching the wand and hopping to his side, offering it with tiny paws.
"Guji~" The little golden creature chirped, seeking praise.
"Good job~" Lockhart grinned, ruffling its head and placing it on his shoulder before standing slowly.
It wasn't easy. As he rose, translucent golden chains extended from every corner of the carriage, binding and tugging at him.
"Guji!" The creature bared its teeth at the carriage, its red cape suddenly fluttering wildly, stretching into a vast red curtain that enveloped Lockhart entirely.
It severed his connection to the carriage's magic.
The golden chains thrashed like living things, grasping blindly but unable to sense Lockhart anymore.
This was why Scrimgeour was wary of the dark creatures around Lockhart—they were like glitches in the world's code.
Free at last, Lockhart strode out the carriage door, gracefully floating up to stand atop it.
He let the red cape retract. The spell he was about to cast wasn't one he'd mastered, and the cape would hinder his casting.
The Thestrals pulling the carriage reacted, turning to attack the escaped prisoner.
But then, translucent pink tendrils, like jellyfish tentacles, sprouted from Lockhart. A Wronged Fairy floated to the driver's seat, calming the Thestrals.
She always had a knack with magical creatures. Tilting her head, she confirmed her influence over them before looking up at Lockhart on the carriage roof.
"To the highest point. I need to see the whole battlefield," Lockhart instructed, raising his arm. His wand waved at the sky, summoning rolling dark clouds across the horizon.
His casting was slow, affecting the weather only a few kilometers at a time.
Soon, the Thestrals pulled the carriage skyward, soaring through clouds, feigning an escape while the Aurors were distracted.
Lockhart was waiting—waiting for Corban Yaxley to show himself.
He was certain Yaxley would appear!
He might not know Yaxley's tactics, but he knew Voldemort's strategies better than anyone. No one understood Tom Riddle like he did.
After Yaxley's last attempt to ambush him failed, Voldemort would surely question Yaxley's competence, even his loyalty. Desperate to prove himself, Yaxley would show up to ensure no mistakes this time.
He wouldn't risk Voldemort's wrath.
Lockhart didn't necessarily want to kill Yaxley.
Dumbledore suspected Yaxley was bait, a lead to track down the elusive Voldemort, always slithering out of reach.
Fine. Lockhart had the patience to let an enemy keep dancing around—for now.
But Vincent Crabbe's soul? That, he had to reclaim!
He'd gone along with the Aurors' capture plan, waiting for this exact moment. He knew it would come!
And he was right—things were shifting.
These people shouting about "rescuing" him weren't Harry Potter or his friends. Professor McGonagall would never let students attack Ministry Aurors, especially not now, with tensions so high. She'd be watching the students like a hawk.
The "Chamber of Secrets reopened" and a student's death were suspicious enough to keep her on high alert, ensuring no further incidents.
So…
These so-called rescuers, aiming to kill a few Aurors and frame Lockhart as their enemy? Their motives were clear.
Yaxley, where are you?
I'm about to escape. Your people are tied up with the Aurors. You're just going to let me slip away?
But Yaxley, it seemed, had the restraint to stay hidden.
"No worries~" Lockhart murmured, facing the wild wind as the Thestral carriage sped forward. "You won't stay hidden for long."
A puff of black smoke emerged from the red cape on the golden creature's back, forming a bizarre mirror with multiple eerie eyes. It spun rapidly around Lockhart, ready to deflect any incoming attack.
Strictly speaking, a Boggart could block nearly any spell—except Riddikulus—including the Killing Curse!
Yes, the Boggart was along for the ride, as always, a staple of Lockhart's adventures.
Finally, the carriage reached the upper skies. Dark clouds had silently spread across the vast horizon, endless in every direction.
This was Lockhart's first time casting this spell.
The first truly original spell of his magical life since crossing into this world.
"*Thunderstorm Wildfire!*"
He whispered the incantation, feeling nature respond to his magic. The wind, clouds, air, and light all seemed to answer his call.
The sensation was wondrous, exhilarating.