It wasn't hard to understand why Grindelwald would want to obtain the power hidden within Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets.
Nearly half a century ago, Grindelwald had lost to Dumbledore in their fateful duel. The unbeatable Elder Wand had changed hands that day. Though Grindelwald still possessed a wand of his own, it was nothing compared to the legendary wands of old.
Moreover, few knew the true whereabouts of the Serpentwood Wand. Many only knew that "Voldemort" had once taken a tree from Ilvermorny and fashioned it into a wand—but who could have guessed that wand was none other than Slytherin's own?
Even if it wasn't, the Chamber of Secrets likely hid Slytherin's legacy. If Grindelwald could obtain that inheritance, his return to power would be far easier.
Perhaps for that reason, in the days that followed, Lockhart became obsessively dedicated to finding the one who had reopened the Chamber.
Charles and Dumbledore both saw through his intentions, at least to some extent. Dumbledore, in particular, suspected Lockhart might be one of Grindelwald's followers—so he kept his distance and avoided discussing him with other professors.
But in truth, both of them were mistaken.
Lockhart was neither an acolyte nor Grindelwald himself.
"Who could the Heir of Slytherin be? It can't possibly be Harry Potter!" Lockhart muttered to himself, licking his lips unconsciously. "The Heir must come from Slytherin!"
"I remember… fifty years ago—back when the Master was still in school—the Chamber was opened once before. Who did it then?" A shadow flashed in his mind, a massive figure.
—Rubeus Hagrid?
The thought itself was absurd.
That brainless oaf had only ever been a scapegoat. The one who truly opened the Chamber had to be the Dark Lord himself—Voldemort!
Lockhart's excitement surged. Who would have thought that his casual visit to Hogwarts—to examine the Pokémon belonging to those who claimed to have defeated his Master—would lead him right into such an opportunity?
"I knew it! I knew it!" he cried."The Dark Lord could never have died!""He's here—he's at Hogwarts!"
His expression turned increasingly manic. If he could find the one who had reopened the Chamber, he could meet the Dark Lord again! His facial muscles twitched sharply, snapping him back to focus.
He took a gulp of Polyjuice Potion to calm himself.
Then came the next problem—who was the one who had opened it?
In the end, all clues circled back to the same truth.
Lockhart decided to start with Hagrid. The fool clearly wasn't the Heir, but he was connected to the Chamber in some way. After all, fifty years was a long time, and even he wasn't sure of every detail.
Eagerly, Lockhart rushed out of his office toward Hagrid's hut—but soon stopped in his tracks.
Crossing the courtyard, he stumbled upon a heated confrontation between the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams.
Even in this version of Hogwarts—one filled with Pokémon—Quidditch remained one of the students' most beloved pastimes. After all, who could resist the thrill of flying? Yet because of the new Pokémon activities, the teams' training schedules had been a mess lately.
This argument, which should have happened before Halloween, was only now erupting.
The Slytherin players stood proudly with a full set of gleaming new broomsticks, sneering at the Gryffindor lions across from them. Lockhart immediately spotted the small but striking figure of Draco Malfoy—and his face darkened.
"Son of a traitor," he hissed, storming toward the field.
He'd always despised the Malfoys. Since his release, he'd heard how the downfall of the Death Eaters had been tied to the betrayal of both Malfoy and Snape. Just seeing that shock of pale hair made his blood boil.
So he strode forward without hesitation.
"At least the Gryffindor team doesn't buy their way in," Hermione's sharp voice rang out. "Every player earned their spot through skill!"
Malfoy's proud smirk faltered slightly.
To Lockhart's surprise, the boy didn't spit out the kind of venomous insults his father would have. It made him sneer inwardly—like father, like son. Even cowardice ran in their veins. To be mocked so openly and not strike back—pathetic.
In truth, Draco had changed. Under Charles's influence, he'd come to respect capable witches like Hermione. Noble blood didn't guarantee greatness—ability did.
And Hermione Granger was certainly capable.
Still, backing down wasn't in Draco's nature."Shut up, Granger! If you're so confident, let's duel!" he snapped, pulling out a Poké Ball. He hadn't yet tested the power of the Forked-Tongue Serpent he'd obtained.
"No need for Hermione to get her hands dirty—I'll take you on!" Ron stepped forward immediately.
"That's enough!" Lockhart barked before the scuffle could escalate. The Defense Against the Dark Arts substitute still commanded some degree of authority.
"Professor," Oliver Wood called, pushing through the crowd. "We reserved the pitch first! The training schedules were arranged to avoid conflict with the Pokémon Club—today is our day!"
"But we have a signed note from our Head of House," Marcus Flint retorted. He wasn't trying to pick a fight, but with the match approaching, Slytherin couldn't afford delays. Missing Pokémon Club was a minor offense compared to losing practice time.
"First come, first served, gentlemen," Lockhart declared, decisively siding with Harry Potter. His reasoning was simple—he despised Malfoy, and it helped maintain his façade. Just as Snape had once "reluctantly" opposed Harry, Lockhart needed to play his own role.
After all, who would suspect that someone defending Harry Potter was actually a servant of the Dark Lord?
Indeed, Dumbledore and Charles both suspected something strange about him—but they thought he was working for Grindelwald instead.
Dumbledore even contacted Nurmengard to verify, only to hear that Grindelwald had repented—leading him to assume one of Grindelwald's followers was acting independently.
Satisfied after driving Malfoy off, Lockhart felt his mood lighten.
"Thank you, Professor!" Harry said gratefully.
The boy's initial disappointment in the absentminded substitute had turned to acceptance. Even Ron thought Lockhart wasn't so bad—except when it came to "banishing gnomes."
Hermione, ever the bookworm, admired him—but nowhere near the obsessive adoration she'd had in the original timeline. She'd met plenty of handsome men by now; if Lockhart wanted to charm her, he'd better publish Travels with My Pokémon first.
"Think nothing of it," Lockhart said grandly.
Harry and the others resumed their practice, while Hermione and Ron invited Lockhart to sit in the stands.
"Professor, what brings you out here?" Hermione asked.
"Just wandering about—seeing if I could uncover any clues," Lockhart replied, feigning diligence. "Even if the last incident only involved Mr. Filch's cat, whether it was a prank or something darker, it's gone too far."
"Mr. Filch hasn't recovered since then," he continued. "Professor Charles kindly gave him a Watchog to cheer him up, but it didn't help much. I may just be a substitute, but as a member of this school, I must do my part. We can't just stand by because no student has been hurt yet. In that respect, I think Professor Dumbledore's been too complacent."
Hermione and Ron nodded; they'd thought the same. None of the professors seemed to take the matter seriously—not even Professor Charles.
After the last attack, they'd approached him with their suspicions about Malfoy, but Charles had said they needed evidence first.
Now, hearing Lockhart speak with such conviction, they couldn't help but feel a certain admiration.
Hermione hesitated, wondering if she should share their theory—but before she could, Lockhart said, "I'm going to speak with Rubeus Hagrid. He's been Keeper of Keys and Grounds for years—perhaps he knows something useful. If you three find any clues, come to me."
With that, he dusted off his robes and strode toward Hagrid's hut.
Watching him leave, Ron asked, "Hermione, do you think we should tell Professor Lockhart about our suspicion of Malfoy?"
"Let's ask Harry first," she said after a pause.
As soon as Harry finished practice, still in his Quidditch robes, Hermione explained their idea.
"Professor Lockhart?" Harry frowned.He wasn't keen on telling a teacher anything yet. Like Charles said—they had no proof.
"But maybe he can help us," Hermione offered. "If he could give us a note to enter the Restricted Section…"
She'd told them before that brewing Polyjuice Potion required Moste Potente Potions—a book kept there. But getting access required a teacher's written permission, and none of their professors were foolish enough to grant it.
"If he wants to find the culprit as much as we do, he might help," Ron said, eyes lighting up. "Let's go! He just went to see Hagrid."
The trio hurried to Hagrid's hut.
When they knocked, a massive figure opened the door, holding a tiny Charmander in his arms.
It was the same Pokémon that Charles had promised him long ago—hatched from an egg and briefly reclaimed before being returned. Though Hagrid was still as kindhearted and clumsy as ever, at least now he could tell the difference between magical creatures and Pokémon.
"Oh, it's you lot! Come in for tea!" Hagrid said cheerfully. "I just got some Spicy Berries from Charles—Charmander loves them! Want to try?"
He handed them a bunch of pepper-like fruits, bit one himself—and immediately turned beet red.
"Whew! Nothing beats a good Spicy Berry!" he gasped.
The trio shook their heads in horror. No one had ever eaten a whole one and survived comfortably—yet Hagrid munched on them like snacks. Terrifying.
"Hagrid, we're actually here to find Professor Lockhart."
"Lockhart?" Hagrid blinked, eyes suddenly misty. "A good man! A good man, he is!"
The Hagrid who'd once hated Lockhart now couldn't praise him enough."I used to dislike him—everyone did! Teachers, students—no one liked him! He did plenty of foolish things, that's for sure. But after all these years, he's changed. Really changed!"
Hagrid sniffled loudly and grabbed a tablecloth to blow his nose—sounding like a foghorn and nearly deafening the three young wizards.
"What happened, Hagrid?" Harry asked gently.
"Ah, nothin' much," Hagrid said, tearing up again. "It's just—he believes in me! No one else ever did—'cept Dumbledore!"
Harry and the others were taken aback. Seeing the giant man weep like a sentimental child was… disconcerting.
But what Hagrid said intrigued Harry most. He tried asking more, but Hagrid wouldn't say another word.
They left empty-handed. Lockhart hadn't stayed long, either.
Still, finding a professor at Hogwarts wasn't hard.
That night, they tracked him down.
"Professor—"
"Oh, it's you three," Lockhart said pleasantly. "What brings you here so late?"
"Well…" Harry swallowed. "We wanted to ask if you could give us a note to borrow a book from the Restricted Section."
"It's about the attacks," he added. "We… we have a suspect, but no proof yet. Maybe if we could just—"
(End of Chapter)