That evening, Charlie received a notice to report to Lockhart's office for detention.
He knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Lockhart's voice came from inside, tinged with a hint of weariness.
Charlie pushed the door open.
Harry was already seated at the desk, holding a quill, with a large stack of envelopes piled in front of him.
"Oh, Charlie."
Lockhart stood up, a smile on his face, though it looked somewhat forced.
He walked to a nearby cabinet and pulled out another large stack of letters.
"These are the fan letters you two need to help me reply to tonight."
"These are Harry's."
Lockhart placed the letters on the table and turned to fetch more.
A second stack.
A third stack.
A fourth stack.
Charlie watched the pile of envelopes grow higher and higher, raising an eyebrow.
Lockhart carried the fifth stack of letters towards Charlie.
"As for Charlie..."
Charlie felt a bad premonition and narrowed his eyes, staring at Lockhart.
Lockhart's steps faltered; he suddenly felt a chill down his spine, and the envelopes in his hands seemed to grow hot.
"Charlie, just sit and rest. I'll reply to these letters myself."
Harry looked up, his eyes wide.
What?
This damned world where only I get hurt!
Harry despised such preferential treatment, but he could only turn his indignation into strength and furiously reply to letters.
Charlie sat down to the side.
The office was quiet, with only the rustling sound of quills scratching across parchment.
Bored, Charlie reached out and picked up an envelope from the table.
The envelope was pink and sprayed with perfume, its scent sickeningly sweet.
He tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.
"Dear Professor Lockhart, your smile keeps me awake every night. I dream of you standing under the moonlight in purple robes, reaching out to me..."
Charlie's expression changed.
He quickly stuffed the letter back into the envelope and threw it onto the table. The words from these fans were practically like whispers from ancient gods, the kind that would need to be censored in an adult novel.
Reading too many would drive one mad.
Harry was quick at opening letters; he was already numb to it. He'd open one, scan it, then reply.
Just then, Harry opened a letter.
The envelope was different from the others; it had no perfume scent and wasn't pink.
It was a plain parchment envelope, sealed with wax.
Harry paused. This didn't look like a fan letter. Had Professor Lockhart made a mistake?
He tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.
There was only one sentence on the letter.
"The target for the new book has been confirmed."
Harry froze. The target for the new book? What did that mean?
Could it be... Harry's heart skipped a beat. Ever since their first class with Lockhart, they had been certain that the events in Lockhart's books weren't things he had experienced himself.
What seasoned adventurer couldn't even handle a few Cornish Pixies?
He looked up, signaling to Charlie with his eyes.
Charlie raised an eyebrow, stood up, and walked over.
He took the letter and glanced at it.
"The target for the new book has been confirmed."
Charlie frowned; he and Harry had thought of the same thing.
Lockhart, drawn by the commotion, turned his head.
He saw the letter in Harry's hand, and his entire body instantly stiffened, his pupils contracting sharply.
The next second, while Charlie had just seen the letter and hadn't yet reacted, Lockhart erupted.
He drew his wand and aimed it at Charlie.
"Obliviate!"
A faint light flashed, and the Spell struck Charlie's chest.
Harry was startled by the sudden event. He immediately plunged his left hand into his pocket, gripping a handful of sand, and raised his right hand, aiming his wand at Lockhart.
At the same time, he anxiously called out to Charlie.
"Charlie, how do you feel?"
Seeing Charlie hit, Lockhart relaxed completely and let out a soft sigh.
"I apologize, you've seen my deepest secret."
His tone became very calm.
"I had no choice but to do this."
Lockhart's gaze fell on Charlie's face. He felt a surge of satisfaction. What did it matter how excellent a student was? Struck by his signature move, they would still turn into a vacant-eyed idiot... Wait!
Lockhart suddenly noticed that Charlie's eyes were not vacant like those of people usually hit by the Spell, but filled with anger.
His heart constricted. The Spell didn't work? How was that possible?
Lockhart raised his wand, intending to cast the Spell again.
But Charlie was faster.
"Imperio!"
A green light burst forth, striking Lockhart's chest.
Lockhart froze in place, his eyes becoming vacant.
His wand clattered to the floor, making a crisp sound.
Charlie reached out and pulled open his collar, revealing a silver-grey vest underneath, its surface glowing faintly.
A troll hide vest.
The moment Lockhart's Memory Charm struck his chest, the Spell collided with the troll hide vest and was directly deflected.
Its extremely high magic resistance made most Spells ineffective.
Charlie secretly rejoiced. Good thing he always wore this thing, otherwise, if he had really been hit just now, he would have lost his memory.
His vigilance soared infinitely.
The world of Wizards was like this: high offense, low defense. Whoever struck first had the advantage.
Even a seemingly useless fellow couldn't be underestimated.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Charlie was fine, but his hand still gripped his wand tightly. He had almost thought it was over just now.
Charlie stared at Lockhart's face.
"What does this letter mean?"
Lockhart, having been hit by Charlie's Imperio, was now completely under Charlie's control. Although he still possessed his own memories, he could only be manipulated by Charlie.
He began to speak.
"The letter was sent by my partner."
Charlie frowned.
"What are you collaborating on?"
"He helps me find material for new books, and I pay him."
"You mean the stories in your books?"
Lockhart nodded.
"All the stories in my books come from other Wizards."
"I go find those who have experienced adventures, listen to them tell their stories, then use the Memory Charm to erase their memories and claim the stories as my own."
Harry gasped when he heard this.
"What happens to those who lose their memories?"
Lockhart said expressionlessly: "That's none of my business. They can fend for themselves."
Harry gritted his teeth, wishing he could punch that hateful face.
Lockhart continued.
"Finding people with stories isn't easy; it takes a lot of time and effort."
"I don't have that much time now, so I found a partner."
"He helps me find targets in advance; I just have to go erase their memories and then write the stories into my books."
Harry opened his mouth, unable to speak for a long time.
Charlie stared at Lockhart, his mind racing, wondering how to deal with Lockhart.
Killing him would surely lead to a major investigation by Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic afterwards, which would be too much trouble. It would be better to hand him over to Dumbledore and let Dumbledore handle it.
After all, Charlie was just a primary school student who couldn't carry much.
Just then, Lockhart suddenly bent down and pulled Tom's diary from under the table.
Lockhart held the diary with both hands, walked in front of Charlie, and stood respectfully.
"Master, this diary knows Dumbledore's dark secrets."
Charlie paused. What was this? Wasn't this Tom's diary?
What dark secrets did Tom know about Dumbledore? A love triangle from his youth?
Lockhart's eyes were full of eagerness.
"With this diary, Master will surely be able to overthrow Dumbledore and take control of Hogwarts."
Charlie's mouth twitched.
When did I ever say I wanted to take control of Hogwarts?
He looked at the diary in Lockhart's hand, a question forming in his mind.
How did the diary end up in Lockhart's hands?
"Where did you get this?" Charlie asked.
Lockhart immediately replied: "Dumbledore gave it to me. He entrusted me with investigating the Basilisk through the diary."
Well, that settled it. Dumbledore was using Lockhart. Who would believe Lockhart could investigate anything? I'd sooner believe I'm Qin Shi Huang.
He stared at the diary, weighing his options for a few seconds.
Since Dumbledore dared to give the diary to Lockhart, he must have had his own plans.
Charlie didn't want to get involved in this matter; the less trouble, the better.
He reached out and pushed the diary back.
"It's yours. Everything remains as it was."
Lockhart took the diary and nodded.
"Yes, Master."
-------------------------------
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