It was Lockhart! Lockhart killed Hermione - for nothing more than a sensational article in the Daily Prophet and another flashy book deal.
Ginny had said it so simply, but her words hit Harry like a curse. She was sure the voice she remembered - the one casting the Memory Charm on her - belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart. The name that once at the start of the year only conjured irritation now brought forth a tidal wave of fury and hate in Harry. He had never felt the desire to kill anyone before - not like this. Not like the way he wanted to see Lockhart pay.
He wouldn't actually do it, of course. Harry wasn't a murderer. But the thought was there, simmering under the surface. It was more than anger. It was a raw, visceral need for justice. Hermione was gone and Lockhart had taken her for something so trivial, so selfish. The very idea of it made Harry's hands tremble, his stomach churn with equal parts rage and grief.
Lockhart had to be stopped. He had to answer for what he'd done.
Ginny had a plan - bold, reckless and terrifying in equal measure. She would confront Lockhart directly, claiming she had remembered everything. She would confront Lockhart, acting as though her fragmented memories had returned to her, piecing together enough to accuse him directly. It would all be a lie, of course, but Harry would be there, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak his father left him, ready to cast a Stunner the moment Lockhart confessed or showed the slightest hint of aggression.
They had prepared for this. Over the last week, they had practiced Stunners in an unused classroom, refining their aim and speed. Harry had hit the target most of the time, but it still wasn't perfect and he worried that one misstep could cost Ginny dearly.
He hated the uncertainty.
They didn't even know how powerful Lockhart really was. The man had built his reputation on vanquishing dangerous creatures and dark wizards, even if his tales were filled with self-aggrandizement. If any of it were true, they would need the element of surprise to stand a chance.
Lockhart's true strength was an enigma. Harry had learned from Quirrell's deception that even the most unassuming wizard could harbour dangerous power. Though Lockhart's blustering persona didn't inspire fear, he was still an adult wizard with experience handling adversaries, especially given his supposed history with dark creatures.
Harry couldn't afford to underestimate him.
Ginny's life would be at risk and Harry hated the thought of her being in harm's way. His heart grew heavy every time he imagined her hurt, her fiery determination dimmed by injury or worse. But she had worn him down. She was right about one thing - no one would believe them otherwise.
Gilderoy Lockhart - the Ministry-backed, Daily Prophet endorsed hero the man everyone admired - couldn't possibly be a murderer in the public's eyes. Certainly not the murderer of Hermione Granger, a girl he'd never had any personal connection to. And what proof did they have? That Ginny remembered Lockhart's voice casting the Obliviation charm? That Lockhart acted oddly around Ginny or grew tense when someone suggested Hagrid hadn't brought the Acromantulas out of the forest? None of it was solid evidence.
Ginny argued that all of Lockhart's strange behaviour would likely be brushed off as the eccentricities of a brilliant wizard. And her fragmented memories were too vague - nothing concrete enough to hold up in court, especially not when the Ministry already had its preferred suspect in Hagrid.
Harry felt his heart race as he crouched beneath the Invisibility Cloak, his hands clutching his wand. The fabric was slightly heavy on his shoulders and he could feel his breath quickening. He had positioned himself carefully, with the perfect angle to witness everything. But the closer they got to confronting Lockhart, the harder it was to keep his composure.
His nerves twisted tighter with every passing moment.
Ginny stood in front of Lockhart, cool and collected, but Harry could see the tension in her body. She had already executed her part of the plan flawlessly - her face composed, her voice steady. The same voice that had managed to calm him in the past, now holding firm as she asked, "I remember everything! Why did you kill Hermione?!"
The words hung in the air, daring Lockhart to respond, but Harry's stomach churned. This was the part where things could go terribly wrong.
Lockhart tilted his head, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of unease. "So, you've managed to recover your memories? How curious… My Memory Charms are usually flawless."
He then leaned casually against his desk, his smirk fixed in place as if he were indulging a child's tantrum. "Miss Weasley," he began, his tone patronizing, "you're far too young to understand the complexities of heroism. A single life, tragic though it may be, is sometimes a necessary sacrifice for the greater good."
Ginny's fists clenched, but she kept her voice steady. "Hermione wasn't just a sacrifice. She was a person. My friend. How can you justify killing her just to keep your fame?"
Lockhart chuckled, the sound cold and devoid of remorse. "My dear girl, you have no idea what it takes to be a hero. I inspire countless witches and wizards. My books bring hope to the hopeless. If that image were to shatter - well, it would do far more harm than one girl's life could ever balance."
From his hiding spot, Harry's grip on his wand tightened, his knuckles white. Disgust churned in his stomach at Lockhart's warped justification. His breathing was shallow and his body was coiled with tension, waiting for the right moment.
Lockhart sighed dramatically, his expression hardening. "But I see now that you're determined to make this difficult. A pity, really. I can't let you walk away." He raised his wand, his voice dropping to a sinister calm. "Oh well, I'll just tell everyone you tragically lost your mind over your friend's death. Say goodbye to your memories. Obliviate!"
A brilliant flash of green light erupted toward Ginny and for a terrifying moment, Harry froze, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.
"No!" he shouted, instinct overriding panic as he jabbed his wand forward. "Stupefy!"
The red streak of light shot from under the Invisibility Cloak, but his aim wavered and the spell narrowly missed Lockhart, blasting into a stack of books on the desk behind him. Harry's chest tightened in despair, his failure ringing in his ears.
Ginny didn't falter. As the Memory Charm bore down on her, she snapped her wand upward. "Protego Mentis!" she cried, her voice sharp and steady. A shimmering, translucent barrier formed before her, reflecting the spell back toward its caster.
Lockhart staggered as the rebounding Memory Charm struck him squarely. His eyes went wide with sudden confusion and his wand hand trembled. "What... what was I...?"
Harry didn't hesitate this time. "Stupefy!" he roared again, the second blast of red light hitting the already-dazed Lockhart in the back. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious, his wand clattering onto the stone.
For a moment, silence filled the office, broken only by the sound of Harry's laboured breathing. Ginny stood still, her shield dissipating, her expression unreadable as she gazed at Lockhart's fallen form.
Harry let out a long, trembling breath, his wand hand slackening slightly. The tension that had coiled in his chest like a spring began to ease, but the weight of the moment refused to lift entirely. Ginny's plan had worked - but not without risks and Harry's pounding heart reminded him of just how close they had come to disaster.
He stepped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. His gaze flickered between Lockhart's unconscious form and Ginny, who still stood tall, her wand gripped firmly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough.
Ginny nodded, but her face was pale, her expression distant. Harry felt his chest tighten again, the protective instinct flaring within him. He had never been so afraid for someone before - not like this. The thought of Ginny getting hurt, of her being struck by Lockhart's Obliviate, had nearly paralyzed him with fear.
Forcing himself to look away from her, Harry glanced back at Lockhart's limp body. The man who had caused so much pain, who had taken Hermione's life, was finally defeated. But the victory felt hollow, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease.
"We did it," Ginny said softly, breaking the silence.
Harry nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah," he replied, though his voice lacked conviction.
As Ginny left the room to fetch Professor McGonagall, Harry stood frozen in place, his wand still drawn. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving him alone with Lockhart's limp, crumpled form. The silence that followed was deafening. Harry's breathing felt too loud, too sharp in the oppressive quiet.
He forced himself to take a step closer to Lockhart, every muscle in his body tense. The man looked smaller now, splayed out on the floor with his mouth slightly open, his carefully styled hair mussed. He didn't look dangerous. He didn't look like a murderer. But he was.
The thought sent a rush of anger through Harry so hot it made his hands shake. This man - the coward who had killed Hermione - was right there, unconscious and defenceless. A single curse, and it would be over. No more lies, no more danger. Lockhart couldn't hurt anyone else.
Harry clenched his jaw and turned away, gripping his wand tighter. He wasn't a murderer. He'd told himself that before and he believed it. But the temptation was there, simmering just beneath the surface, whispering that Lockhart deserved it. Hermione deserved justice.
Hermione.
Her name alone felt like a blow to the chest, and Harry slumped into the chair behind Lockhart's desk, his wand still clutched in his hand. He closed his eyes, her face flashing in his mind like a ghost. He could almost hear her voice - stern, impatient, correcting him on some spell he'd gotten wrong. The way she used to wrinkle her nose when she was annoyed. The sound of her laughter, rare but genuine, echoing in the Gryffindor common room.
She was gone.
The truth of it hit him all over again, sharp and cruel. Hermione was gone and nothing he did - no amount of anger, no amount of revenge - would ever bring her back. She had been his best friend. And now she was just… gone.
But it wasn't just Hermione's life he'd almost destroyed.
Harry's heart clenched painfully as his mind replayed the scene from moments ago. The green light of Lockhart's Obliviate streaking toward Ginny and for an instant, he had been paralyzed. She could have been gone too.
Ginny.
He shuddered, the memory vivid and raw. The fear he'd felt in that moment had been unlike anything he'd experienced before. Losing Hermione had been devastating, but the thought of losing Ginny on top of it… The very idea left him hollow and trembling. She was all he had left now, the only person who understood him… who had stood by him when everything felt like it was falling apart.
And he'd almost failed her too.
The Stunner he'd fired had missed - his aim had been just off and it could have cost Ginny everything. If she hadn't been so quick, so clever, she might not have made it out unscathed. He hated himself for it. Hated the way his stomach churned with guilt and shame, the way his hands trembled with the knowledge that he had come so close to letting her down.
What kind of friend was he if he couldn't protect the people he cared most about? He'd failed Hermione. He'd almost failed Ginny. The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating.
But Ginny had survived. She had stood there, calm and fearless, facing Lockhart down even as the spell came for her. Harry couldn't understand how she could be so brave. It terrified him, knowing how close she'd come to danger.
He glanced back at Lockhart's unconscious body, his rage flaring again. He wanted to hurt the man, to make him pay for all the pain he'd caused. But he couldn't. Not like this. Ginny wouldn't want that.
Everything happened quickly after that.
Ginny returned with Professor McGonagall, who wasted no time levitating Lockhart's unconscious body. "I'll take him to the Hospital Wing for now," she said briskly. "The two of you are to report to Professor Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office."
Harry felt strangely hollow, as though the weight of everything had scooped him out and left him drifting. The only thing keeping him anchored was Ginny's hand in his, her grip firm and steady as they walked side by side. The corridors stretched endlessly before them, their footsteps echoing in the silence.
They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle. "Sherbet lemon," she said, her voice breaking the quiet and snapping Harry out of his trance-like state. The gargoyle sprang suddenly to life, and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Harry glanced at Ginny, his brow furrowed in question.
"Professor McGonagall told me the password when I explained everything to her," she said quickly, her words slightly rushed. "She wants us to tell Professor Dumbledore what happened."
Ginny's nervousness was obvious - her fingers tightened around Harry's briefly before she let go.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked concerned.
"Yeah, it's just... I've never met Dumbledore before. He's quite famous, you know..." she trailed off, her voice betraying her anxiety.
Harry realized then that she was nervous about speaking in front of Dumbledore. But that was okay. She had already done so much today. He promised her he would take the lead in talking. Her grateful look confirmed he had guessed right.
Behind the wall was a spiral staircase which was moving smoothly upwards, like an escalator. As he and Ginny stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upwards in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry could see a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffon.
They stepped off the stone staircase at the top and he rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Harry looked around. One thing was certain: Of all the teachers' offices Harry had visited so far, Dumbledore's was by far the most interesting.
It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat.
"Harry, my boy. It's good to see you again."
Harry turned, startled by Professor Dumbledore's soft yet sombre voice. The headmaster sat behind his desk, his long fingers steepled, his piercing blue eyes studying them intently. Harry felt a wave of nervousness wash over him and managed only a small nod in response.
"And the lovely young lady beside you must be Miss Weasley," Dumbledore continued, his tone warm but grave. "Minerva's Patronus has already briefed me about what transpired between the two of you and Professor Lockhart, but I'd like to hear the full account directly from you two, if you don't mind." He gestured lightly to the two chairs positioned before his desk.
Ginny gave a polite smile, her voice steady but quiet. "It's nice to meet you, Headmaster," she said as they both took their seats. Harry hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ginny for reassurance. She nodded subtly and he began to recount the events as clearly as he could.
Harry started to speak, his words spilling out into the heavy silence of the office. For nearly a quarter of an hour, he recounted everything: Their investigation into Hermione's death, their growing suspicions of Lockhart, how Ginny had managed to recover fragments of her memories and the confrontation that followed. He described Lockhart's confession, the attempt to obliviate Ginny and how the spell had been reflected back at him.
Ginny sat quietly beside him for most of the explanation, occasionally adding a detail or clarifying a point. Her calm, steady presence was a comfort to Harry, pushing him to keep going even as the weight of the story pressed on him.
As Harry's voice grew hoarse from the strain of recounting everything, he concluded by explaining how Ginny went to Professor McGonagall, who had taken Lockhart to the Hospital Wing.
Professor Dumbledore leaned forward, his gaze kind. "Harry, I'd like to extract your memory of the confrontation with Lockhart to examine it closely. It's a simple, harmless spell."
Harry blinked. "Extract my memory?"
Dumbledore nodded. "It will show me the events as they happened. Are you okay with that?"
After a moment's hesitation, Harry agreed. "Yeah… okay."
"Focus on that moment, Harry," Dumbledore instructed. Harry closed his eyes, recalling the office, Lockhart's confession and Ginny's voice.
Dumbledore's wand hovered near Harry's temple, and he felt a cool sensation as a silvery thread of memory was drawn out, shimmering in the air. Dumbledore placed it into a silver dish on his desk.
"There we are," Professor Dumbledore said reassuringly. "You've done well, Harry. Your memory is still with you, of course. I just have a copy."
Ginny watched, curious. "How will you see it?"
Dumbledore gestured to the basin. "I'll step into the memory." He poured the memory into a glowing basin, then bent over it, his head disappearing into the light. Dumbledore seemed to vanish into the swirling contents of the basin, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the office.
Harry's gaze wandered to the Sorting Hat perched on its shelf. Ever since discovering he was a Parselmouth, he'd been tempted to put the hat on again, to ask if he truly belonged in Gryffindor. The thought tugged at him now, but Dumbledore could reappear at any moment. Pushing the idea aside, he turned to Ginny, hoping to distract himself.
"Do you think this memory will be enough to convict Lockhart in court?" he asked.
Ginny hesitated before replying, "I'm not sure. The Wizengamot can be more about politics than justice sometimes and…" She glanced toward the basin where Professor Dumbledore had disappeared, then at the portraits lining the walls, as if checking for eavesdroppers. Lowering her voice, she added, "and as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the headmaster would have to spend a lot of political capital to bring someone as famous as Lockhart before them on murder charges. I hope he does it, of course, but…"
Harry's heart sank. He understood the implications. Dumbledore was also a politician. Did he even want to bring Lockhart to justice?
His unease deepened as he followed Ginny's gaze to the portraits. Could they hear and see everything, even when they seemed to be asleep? He had never really thought much about the magical portraits that adorned the castle, but the idea that they could act as spies for Dumbledore - seeing and hearing everything that happened - sent a chill down his spine. That was really scary…
Before he could dwell on it further, the quiet swish of robes announced Dumbledore's return. The headmaster stepped away from the strange basin, his expression as composed as ever.
"Will this be enough to convict Lockhart of murder, Headmaster?" Harry asked abruptly, his voice edged with urgency despite the sinking feeling already creeping into his chest. "He confessed everything! He even tried to obliviate Ginny to cover his tracks! That has to count for something, right?"
Harry hadn't realized he'd risen to his feet or that his voice had grown louder than he intended. Only the gentle tug of Ginny's hand on his brought him back to the present, the heat rising to his face as embarrassment set in.
"Sorry, Headmaster. I didn't mean to shout, but…" Harry began, only to be cut off by a calm, placating gesture from Dumbledore.
"It's quite understandable, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice kind but tempered with gravity. "You've lost a dear friend and you seek justice. It is a natural response and I share your desire for the truth to prevail."
Despite the reassurance, Harry braced himself. He sensed a 'but' coming, recalling Ginny's words about the headmaster being a politician.
"However," Dumbledore continued and Harry's stomach twisted, a tight, unpleasant knot forming deep within him. "There are significant challenges in pursuing such a case. It could be claimed that Professor Lockhart was under the influence of a Confundus Charm, a Confusing Draught or perhaps even the Imperius Curse at the time of his confession. The reflected Memory Charm has left him unable to defend or explain himself and without his memories, Veritaserum is of no use. There is no other evidence tying him to the crime. I am afraid the Wizengamot would see this as insufficient grounds for conviction."
Harry clenched his fists, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
"But you're the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot! You must have some influence," he pressed, the title sounding grand and powerful, though he wasn't entirely sure what it entailed. Surely someone with that much authority could do something.
Dumbledore regarded Harry with the same calm patience he had shown when they first entered the office, though his blue eyes softened with understanding.
"I understand your frustration, Harry. Truly, I do," he said gently. "What happened to your friend is deeply unjust and it feels all the more so when the person responsible may evade true punishment. But I cannot simply force the other members of the Wizengamot to act like I want. Nobody should wield that kind of unchecked power. Lockhart will be sent to the mental ward at St. Mungo's - not Azkaban, I'm afraid."
Harry's anger simmered just below the surface and even Ginny's calming presence couldn't fully soothe him. Her being there was the only thing keeping him from shouting at Dumbledore or lashing out in frustration.
'What kind of nonsense is that: Nobody should wield that kind of power?' Harry thought bitterly. Dumbledore probably just didn't want to admit that he had hired a murderer. 'Last year, he hired someone possessed by Voldemort,' Harry reminded himself sarcastically. 'That didn't make the front page of the Daily Prophet either.'
"But we can at least use this memory in Hagrid's defence during his upcoming trial to argue reasonable doubt," Dumbledore continued in his measured, soothing tone. Harry clenched his fists, hating the headmaster's calm demeanour, hating how reasonable he sounded. But Dumbledore had a point. Harry hadn't forgotten about Hagrid, unjustly imprisoned and awaiting trial. Still, the thought of Lockhart living on in peace gnawed at him. For a fleeting moment, he thought darkly, 'Maybe I should've sent a Severing Charm at his neck by accident.' But the thought of Ginny's disappointment - her hatred - stopped him cold.
"But I must ask Miss Weasley for her memories of Halloween," Dumbledore said, his piercing gaze settling on Ginny. Something in his expression made Harry uneasy.
"What? Why?" Harry exclaimed, instinctively feeling protective. He didn't like the idea of Ginny being forced to relive that awful day.
Ginny's voice wavered as she spoke. "You want to see my memories, Headmaster? Why?" she stuttered, clearly uncomfortable. The idea of sharing her last moments with Hermione, with anyone, probably felt deeply invasive. And why now? Dumbledore had already said Lockhart wouldn't face justice. What could this possibly accomplish?
"I'm afraid I must insist, my dear," Dumbledore replied gently but firmly. "It is for your own good. Rest assured, I would not ask you to watch them yourself if it is too painful."
Harry frowned, not understanding Dumbledore's cryptic reasoning.
"For her own good?" he challenged, his voice rising. "That doesn't even make sense!"
But Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him mid-sentence. Her touch was steady, though her face betrayed lingering pain.
"It's okay, Harry," she said softly. "It's still hard to think about that day… but if it's really necessary, I can give him the memory."
Her words silenced Harry, though his jaw clenched as he looked between her and Dumbledore. Something about this didn't sit right with him. But if Ginny was willing, he would stand by her.