Surprise! A mass release of five chapters is here! 🎉I want to thank all my readers who gave me Power Stones previously and saved my book to their libraries—this release is for you. Your support keeps me going!
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Outside the classroom, Amelia's eyes gleamed with excitement. "McGonagall said we'd finally be doing human transfiguration and conjuration this year."
Gilderoy tugged her into a quieter corner. "Speaking of… Amelia, what do you think about becoming Animagi?"
Her eyes widened, then narrowed in interest. "Dangerous. But I like the way you think." She smirked. "We can't start tonight. We don't even have the ingredients. But… let's read up sometime later."
McGonagall's voice echoed from the classroom as she called the students in, waiting patiently while everyone took their seats.
"This year is particularly important," she began, her tone firm. "You will be taking your N.E.W.Ts, and your scores will determine the types of positions you will be eligible for afterward. Make the most of your time and study diligently."
Ah, N.E.W.Ts, the so-called golden tickets to the Ministry, though I already know how hollow that promise is. From the memories of this Lockhart's life and from my own knowledge of how the wizarding world unfolds in later years, Muggle-borns and half-bloods are relegated to lower posts, many so disillusioned they return to the Muggle world rather than endure endless snubs.
Purebloods, of course, stroll in with positions practically reserved for them, connections already pulling strings behind the scenes. Scores, pfft, they barely matter. Talent, diligence, even brilliance—it is all meaningless when lineage dictates opportunity. Fascinating and infuriating.
McGonagall's gaze swept across the room before shifting to the day's lesson.
"The incantation is Capillus Mutare. Visualize the change and direct your wand."
"Today's lesson focuses on altering hair using advanced human transfiguration, with part conjuration to allow minor creation or reshaping, if necessary," McGonagall said, her gaze sweeping across the students.
"This is not the simple hair-colouring charm you learned in fourth year. Precision is essential—any hesitation or unclear visualization can result in uneven lengths, unnatural textures, or unintended strands."
"Unlike a basic charm, Capillus Mutare can't always be reversed with Finite Incantatem. A dedicated counter-spell is needed to restore the original hair safely—Capillus Revertare."
The students leaned forward, awe and apprehension mixing in their expressions, as tried the new spell. Some experimented cautiously, attempting subtle shifts in length, curl, or style, and the results varied wildly.
One student ended up with bald, patchy hair paired with a long, flowing white beard. It almost looked intentional, given how his partner couldn't stop laughing.
Amelia, naturally more confident, flicked her wand at Gilderoy. His golden hair immediately cascaded down to his chest and shifted into a shockingly bright red.
"There. Now we match."
Gilderoy turned toward the small classroom mirror propped nearby, catching sight of himself.
Well… I didn't see that coming. Red? On me? Looks horrendous...
Gilderoy chuckled, masking his dismay, and focused his wand on her instead.
With a flourish, her own crimson locks shortened and gleamed a shining golden blonde. "No, Amelia. Red is your colour."
With that, he cast Capillus Revertare, returning her hair to its usual shade and length.
Exactly. Some things are just meant to be left as they are. Red might clash with my aesthetic, but on her… that fiery hair makes her look undeniably hot.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the variety of results—especially the bolder displays and awarded five points to every student who managed a proper transformation.
With the lesson concluded and books packed away, the class filtered out into the corridors, chattering about their successes and mishaps.
Next was DADA class. Gilderoy was initially excited, but Amelia's words immediately brought him down.
"Gilderoy, the professor only sticks to theoretical DADA. When it comes to practice, he says to do it on your own time."
Ah, typical. All talk, no action. But well… at least I've got a capable partner. My lady, my saviour in this dungeon of theory.
"Well, I still have you, milady," Gilderoy said, attempting to flatter her.
Amelia's eyes glinted. "You're going to be a punching bag for my spells when we start duelling until you improve and can withstand them on your own."
Challenge accepted. My pride demands it.
"I, Gilderoy Lockhart, can withstand anything thrown at me!" he boasted.
Amelia made a small motion with her hand, and Gilderoy suddenly felt a sharp sting on his arm.
"AAHH! Lady, don't hit me!" he pleaded.
F*ck, that hurts. Wandless magic… damn. You violent woman—just wait until I get stronger. Then I'm gonna spank you until your ass turns red, he swore internally.
Amelia looking pleased, moved toward the DADA classroom. "Come on, class is starting.
This fiery redhead… beautiful, dangerous, and impossible not to chase.
In the DADA class, once everyone had taken their seats, the professor—a ministry stooge—simply opened a book and began droning out lines from it, offering no explanation at all.
Amelia lifted her brows and subtly gestured toward the half-dozing students, giving Gilderoy a look. "This guy could give Binns competition in putting students to sleep."
Gilderoy couldn't help but agree, letting out a low chuckle. "Right!"
By the time the bell finally rang, the entire class practically bolted for the corridor, relieved to escape the monotony.
"Which class is next?" Gilderoy asked.
Amelia groaned. "History of Magic. Ugh, why are these two back-to-back?"
"Let's just make notes from the book and let Binns drone on," Gilderoy suggested.
He slid onto the bench beside her as she pulled out her self-inking quill.
Dammit. Previous Lockhart was such an IDOT that he never even bought one.
Amelia noticed and handed him a spare. "Here, take this. I always carry an extra."
"Thank you, my lady," Gilderoy said dramatically.
He opened the textbook between them while Amelia marked important points. Together they scribbled notes, parchment scratching under their quills.
This paper is so rough. Hmmm. Maybe I should introduce Muggle paper here. What a brilliant business idea.
By the time they finished, nearly the entire class was asleep.
"I think Binns won against that Ministry guy," Gilderoy whispered.
Amelia burst into a genuine laugh, her eyes sparkling. "Ha! You might be right—Binns is undefeated."
They packed away their quills and parchment, stretching slightly after the long session.
Finally, the lunch bell rang echoing through the corridor
At last, a break.
"We've got Potions after lunch," Amelia said, checking her timetable. "At least Slughorn is competent."
After a quick meal, they descended to the dungeons, where Slughorn joyfully ushered them inside.
"Mr. Lockhart, Miss Bones—front seats, come on now!"
Once everyone had arrived, Slughorn clapped his hands. "Today we'll be brewing Draught of Living Death. And to make things interesting…" He held up a small vial filled with golden liquid.
"A vial of Felix Felicis to the brewer of the best potion!"
This… this is Half-Blood Prince all over again. That vial is mine. Ha ha ha ha.
Amelia frowned, a little creeped out by his wicked grin, confused at what could possibly be making Lockhart wear such a face.
Around him, students scrambled to set up cauldrons and ingredients, the clatter of knives and bubbling water filling the dungeon.
Gilderoy, however, moved with calm precision, dredging up scraps of memory from his previous life.
Crush with the flat side of the silver dagger… juice flows better. Stir seven times counterclockwise, then once clockwise… pause, repeat.
The instructions weren't complete—Rowling's book from his previous life had only revealed a handful of Snape's scribbled notes, not the entire process. Even so, those fragments gave him an undeniable edge.
His potion settled into a pale, delicate colour, standing out starkly against the swampy disasters around him. Not perfect, but still far beyond anything the original Lockhart could ever have brewed.
As the class drew to a close, Slughorn waddled over, eyes widening as he inspected each cauldron, finally stopping at Gilderoy's.
"My boy, what an excellent potion! Have you been studying, Mr. Lockhart? You never showed such talent before."
"I did, sir," Gilderoy replied smoothly, wearing his best smile.
"Then congratulations! You've earned this year's Felix Felicis." Slughorn pressed the vial into his hand.
There was deafening silence. The class stared, utterly stunned. No one clapped. The boastful Lockhart—actually winning? Impossible.
Amelia's eyes widened, and she blinked a few times, trying to process what she had just seen.
In a burst of excitement, she grabbed his arm.
"You… how did you do that?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with amazement.
Her eyes searched his face, trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed.
Gilderoy caught her gaze, his ever-present smirk in place as felt a faint thrill at the warmth of her hand on his arm.
"Trade secret, Amelia," he said lightly, letting the mystery hang in the air.
She huffed, clearly frustrated, and crossed her arms. "One day, I will figure out exactly how you did that," she muttered, shooting him a mock glare that didn't quite hide her admiration.
Sorry Amelia… I can't tell you that I'm a transmigrator.