When that short figure completely dissolved into light, time seemed to freeze. Only after several long minutes did the Malfoy father and son finally wrench themselves out of it like survivors crawling awake from a nightmare.
Draco Malfoy's voice shook as he asked in terror, "Dad… who was that person just now?"
Looking around, Knockturn Alley was a disaster zone. The brutal signs made one thing painfully clear: the dozen-plus dark wizards sprawled across the ground had all been killed by that person.
Draco replayed the instant their eyes met, and his spine went ice-cold—like something had pierced straight through his soul, like he'd just taken a step off the edge of death and somehow been yanked back.
Lucius Malfoy's face was grim.
"Come. We're going to find Borgin. If he's lucky and nothing's happened to him, he'll know what just went on here."
When they reached Borgin and Burkes, they weaved between shelves packed with bizarre, unsettling objects, eyes sweeping every corner. They searched for a long time—yet Borgin was nowhere to be found.
In the end, after turning the place inside out, they finally found him.
He was crammed inside an Iron Maiden-shaped coffin, refusing to come out no matter how they called.
Lucius used an Unlocking Charm on the lock, yanked the Iron Maiden open, and dragged Borgin out. Borgin was still trembling violently, like he'd just seen something that broke his mind.
With no choice, Lucius cast a Calming Charm. A soft blue light flashed over Borgin, and little by little he quieted, his breathing finally evening out.
Once Borgin could focus, Lucius immediately pressed, "Borgin—who was that short dark wizard in Knockturn Alley?"
Borgin didn't know the mysterious attacker's true identity. But what he did say made Lucius's eyes widen so sharply he couldn't stop himself from blurting it out:
"What? You're saying a young witch wandered into Knockturn Alley by mistake just now?"
Borgin nodded.
Lucius's expression flickered—stormy and uncertain.
He instantly thought of that attacker's height. It was… about the same as Harry Potter's current height.
So was it possible… that the short dark wizard was the savior of the wizarding world—Harry Potter?
No. Harry had already left Diagon Alley. It shouldn't be him.
Besides, what kind of savior turns Knockturn Alley into a river of blood? That was darker than the Dark Lord—so dark it made the Dark Lord look underqualified.
Even Voldemort, across his entire life, had "only" killed a few hundred people, and that alone was enough for the wizarding world to fear him as You-Know-Who.
If there were a wizard even more wicked than Voldemort… what would the wizarding world call him?
Death?
Or something even more terrifying?
If that dark wizard really was Harry—killing dozens today, dozens tomorrow—then Voldemort standing beside him would look like a green rookie.
What kind of savior is like that?
That's more Dark Lord than the Dark Lord!
Not long after the Knockturn Alley massacre, The Daily Prophet ran the story.
Breaking: Mysterious Bloodbath in Knockturn Alley—More Than Ten Wizards Found Dead!
A vicious new case has shaken the wizarding world. In Knockturn Alley—long known for danger and darkness—more than ten dark wizards have been discovered dead.
The Ministry of Magic has launched an investigation…
…
After returning from Diagon Alley, Harry and Hermione often went over to the Weasleys'.
That summer, Harry spent only about half his time at the Dursleys', and another large chunk at the Burrow. He also spent a full week traveling with a group of kids his age, visiting the United States as it existed in this era and having a proper vacation.
Summer blinked by. During that time, Harry's research cut the cost of stabilized portals by fifty percent—so once he returned to the multiverse, he could increase the number of stabilized portals he maintained.
On the final day of the summer holidays, Harry didn't have the Dursleys see him off. He went straight to the Weasleys'.
Once everyone finished packing, they headed together for King's Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express.
One by one, they used Floo Powder to travel to Diagon Alley, planning to do one last round of shopping before leaving from the Leaky Cauldron and making their way to King's Cross.
They'd barely stepped into Diagon Alley when Percy—ever observant—noticed something off.
"Why are there Aurors patrolling Diagon Alley? And why does everyone look so tense?"
Mr. Weasley glanced toward a shadowy side alley and explained, "Looks like you missed The Daily Prophet a while back. A little over a month ago, something big happened—more than ten dark wizards were brutally killed in Knockturn Alley."
"Even if the victims were only dark wizards, that many deaths at once is still too serious for the Ministry to ignore."
"Especially today—first day back at Hogwarts—so the Ministry's sent Aurors to patrol."
Then Mr. Weasley paused and looked directly at Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, his voice lowering.
"Funny coincidence, too. The timing of that slaughter was the same day you three went to Diagon Alley. Luckily, you didn't run into the murderer."
Ginny, completely confident in Harry, beamed. "It's fine, Dad—Harry will protect us."
Harry, though, caught the deeper meaning in Mr. Weasley's eyes—like he suspected something. Harry simply pretended not to notice, his gaze clear and innocent as he looked ahead.
He was a good kid, after all.
Good kids didn't do things like murder and arson.
Because Harry had paid to help Ginny buy a full set of new books, supplies, and robes, the rest of them only needed to pick up snacks and a few small things before leaving for King's Cross.
Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley stopped. Harry followed her gaze and saw a handsome wizard walking into Flourish and Blotts.
Harry recognized him. He'd seen the man's photo in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests.
If Harry wasn't mistaken, that meant this was the recently famous wizard—
Gilderoy Lockhart.
And really, when it came to second-year books, plenty of the required texts were Lockhart's.
Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holidays with Hags, Travels with Trolls…
All written by Lockhart.
Ron had even complained in private, "Bet the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is a huge fan. Probably some witch."
Harry had a different theory: maybe the new professor wasn't a witch at all—maybe it was Lockhart himself.
But was Lockhart really that narcissistic?
Harry watched the handsome wizard waving nonstop to the crowd and thought… honestly, maybe.
The moment Lockhart entered Flourish and Blotts, the shop filled up instantly.
Mrs. Weasley looked thrilled. "Come on, everyone—let's go see! I'm pretty sure today's one of Lockhart's signing days!"
Unlike her, Mr. Weasley wore a pained expression, clearly not eager to go. He disliked Lockhart, and every time he saw Mrs. Weasley so starry-eyed about him, he got that tight, sour feeling of jealousy—like someone was flirting with his wife right in front of him.
What surprised Harry was that even Hermione seemed to like Lockhart.
Though clearly, most of her attention was still on the boy she liked. She tugged Harry's sleeve and said brightly, "Come on, Harry—let's go see!"
When they pushed their way in, they spotted Lockhart immediately.
He sat behind a table, surrounded by enormous posters of his own face.
That only strengthened Harry's suspicion: the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had to be Lockhart. No one else could be this in love with himself.
A short, bad-tempered wizard was snapping photos of Lockhart nonstop. When he shoved his way near Ron, he barked, "Move! This is for The Daily Prophet!"
"Brilliant," Ron muttered, rubbing a toe that had just been stepped on. "But you might want to watch where you're going."
That drew Lockhart's attention. He looked over—and instantly spotted Harry.
After a moment of staring, realizing it really was him, Lockhart practically leapt out of his seat and rushed over. Without asking permission, he tried to haul Harry forward.
"Harry Potter! Come take a few photos with me!"
Normally, if Lockhart asked politely, Harry wouldn't have cared. A couple photos were nothing.
But this wasn't polite. Lockhart didn't even bother to ask—he just grabbed.
Harry raised an eyebrow, brushed Lockhart's arm off, and refused.
"Sorry. I don't want photos. Maybe you can ask someone else."
Of course Lockhart didn't want someone else.
Someone else wouldn't help.
What he needed was Harry's fame.
After defeating Voldemort a second time, even without trying, Harry's reputation in the wizarding world was unquestionably number one—far beyond Lockhart's.
A photo with Harry would spike sales immediately.
So even after Harry refused, Lockhart tried to force him toward the cameras anyway.
Harry's brow tightened. A flicker of invisible electricity ran along his arm. With one light push—
Lockhart went down hard, even tumbling a few times, looking spectacularly pathetic.
Lockhart's face burned with embarrassment. He hadn't expected Harry to have that kind of strength from a casual shove.
He swallowed his anger, forced a smile for the crowd, and announced, "Oh—terribly sorry. Slipped for a moment. But it's quite all right—great Lockhart can handle any little accident."
Then he leaned close to Harry's ear and hissed in a voice only Harry could hear, "Listen, Harry—do me a favor. Take a few photos with me. You do realize I'm about to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. You wouldn't want to fail my class, would you?"
Harry lifted an eyebrow.
Kid… you're really trying to threaten me?
Do you even know whose territory Hogwarts is?
Harry didn't hesitate. He turned to the crowd and announced loudly, "Mr. Lockhart just told me he's going to put on a performance for everyone. Please look forward to it!"
Lockhart blinked, baffled. Since when did he say anything about a performance?
And then he saw Harry raise his wand toward him—wearing a mischievous grin.
"Tarantallegra!"
The spell hit. Lockhart's legs immediately launched into frantic, uncontrollable dancing—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop.
Right next to his ear, Harry's voice followed, calm and almost cheerful.
"Mr. Lockhart, it'll wear off in an hour. I hope you have fun!"
Harry had made a small adjustment to the spell structure. The standard counter-charm wouldn't work.
So unless something unexpected happened, Lockhart was going to dance for a full hour.
After that, Harry left Flourish and Blotts with the Weasleys and headed for King's Cross Station—leaving Lockhart behind, shouting desperately:
"Wait—wait! Undo it! Someone undo it!"
Only then did the crowd realize something was wrong. People tried all kinds of counterspells, but nothing worked.
And so, Lockhart had no choice but to dance for an hour.
Worse—some reporter "accidentally" snapped a photo of the entire scene…
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