"An absolutely confidential location."
Lockhart strode through the door in satisfaction.
He pictured a crowd of young witches shrieking, and then—among them—he would spot that man… Mr. Green.
The future greatest wizard. The wizard who would surpass Dumbledore. The greatest alchemist in eight hundred years… who else could it be?
He kept his most dazzling smile, chin lifted, chest out, and walked forward.
What greeted him, however, was—
"Expelliarmus!" Justin shouted.
Lockhart's face drained. He tried to duck behind Hermione.
Hermione, anticipating it, slipped aside—while also swinging the door shut.
Lockhart's wand shot off his belt line. He scrambled for it in panic, only to see it in Justin's hand.
So Justin had used Accio Lockhart's wand.
"What is this? A little joke, is it?" He looked at Hermione, recovering the air of someone who'd expected it all along.
"Of course. You caught me off guard and knocked my wand away—my devoted admirers. You think if you disarm me I'll teach you a few little dueling tips?
Ha! You guessed right. And now what I'm going to teach you is—"
Lockhart abruptly spun and tried to snatch Hermione's wand, but Hermione dodged cleanly.
"Impressive combat instincts. It seems—"
He didn't get to finish, because Justin shouted, "Tarantallegra!"
In an instant, Lockhart was dancing uncontrollably.
His legs flailed in exaggerated steps, and his heart dropped through the floor.
He couldn't understand it—what were they doing? What did these students want?
"Hey! Listen, you lot! Remember? I'm a professor!" he shouted.
"Not for much longer," Hermione said coldly.
"What now?" Justin stepped out from the corner.
"Wait a moment." Hermione sat down on a chair. Right then, she really wished she knew the Full Body-Bind.
But that fell under the umbrella of Dark magic.
And of course Lockhart had taught them nothing. Even that spell came from Sean's notes.
"Alright—Muffliato." Justin cast a Silencing Charm—one that made voices softer and could effectively counter the effects of a Sonorus charm.
Lockhart seemed to start putting it together. He looked around in despair, but no one came to save him.
He looked nothing like his usual handsome, dashing self now.
His lips trembled; the bright, toothy grin was gone. His jaw looked sunken, his whole face suddenly gaunt and haggard.
"Hey! Kids! What are you doing? Let me go right now, or you're going to regret it!
I'm an internationally celebrated author, a Third Class Order of Merlin recipient, an honorary member of the Anti–Dark Arts League, and a five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award!"
Lockhart forced himself to sound calm.
"Your honors come from your books," Hermione snapped.
They waited—until Lockhart was exhausted, his resistance weakened, or his attention slipped.
Then Justin would use Incarcerous to bind his hands—an easy spell to dodge, so they needed to be careful.
After that, Hermione would use Mobiliarbus to control his movement.
It was a spell she'd learned in the Restricted Section—meant to help someone who couldn't walk move around.
In other words: it could briefly control a wizard's actions.
Then they could force the Veritaserum into his mouth.
"Those were my personal experiences, kids," Lockhart insisted.
"Books can lie, Professor—just like you," Justin said, topping up the Dancing Feet spell.
"This is outrageous slander!" Lockhart's feet kept dancing. He couldn't get close to them, but he acted properly indignant.
"My dear Miss Granger—the finest witch of your year—surely you can tell the difference, can't you?" he said sweetly, while quietly flicking his eyes toward Hermione's wand.
He was dancing, yes—but with his level of magic, he shouldn't be as helpless as he looked.
Still, if these two kept their wands trained on him, constantly casting, he really was in danger.
"We visited the people from the places you wrote about," Hermione said.
"Oh? And what did you discover, my adoring fans?" Lockhart said, trying to distract them.
"Professor, drop the little tricks. Incarcerous!" Justin snapped, and while Lockhart's attention was elsewhere, he landed the binding spell, tying Lockhart's hands.
"Hermione!" Lockhart shouted.
"Incarcerous!" Hermione followed instantly.
Now Lockhart was trussed up tight, left to wriggle on the floor.
Only then did they finally relax.
"Hermione, come on—quick," Justin said, excited.
Once they got rid of Lockhart, they'd have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"Mobiliarbus." Hermione nodded, and on Lockhart's terrified, rigid face, she forced the Veritaserum down his throat.
"What did you do?!" Lockhart screamed.
"Alright, Professor. Now tell us the truth.
What's the real story behind your bestsellers? Who actually did those things?"
Justin asked as he pulled out a recording tool.
Lockhart tried to lie—only for the truth to spill out instead:
"My dear children, use a little common sense!
Of course it wasn't me. But if people didn't think it was me, the books wouldn't sell, would they?
Readers don't want to read about some ugly old American wizard—even if he freed an entire village from a werewolf plague.
Put his photograph on the cover and it'd be hideous.
He has zero taste in clothing. And that witch who banished the Wagga Wagga werewolf? She had a hairy chin!
I mean, just imagine—"
"So you took everything other people did and put it all under your own name?" Hermione asked, still struggling to believe it.
"Hermione, Hermione," Lockhart clawed at his own mouth, but it kept babbling on.
"It's not as simple as you make it sound. I worked hard too! I had to track those people down and find out exactly how they did it.
Then I had to cast a Memory Charm on them—so they'd forget it all completely.
If there's anything I'm proud of, it's my Memory Charm. See? Hermione, Justin—I put in so much effort.
You know, it's not just signing books and being photographed. If you want fame, you have to prepare for long-term, grueling work."
When it ended, his face had gone completely ashen.
"New professor coming, then?" Justin said, lifting the recorder with a grin.
"Hmph." Hermione lifted her chin.
"Where's Sean?" she asked.
They both looked toward the left corner—but Sean wasn't there.
Their expressions tightened—more uneasy than they'd been even facing Lockhart.
"You did very well, everyone."
Sean's voice drifted in. He stepped through a large door.
Behind him was Dumbledore—watching the show with interest.