"Professor, don't…" Pandora murmured, half resisting, half yielding.
Just as things were about to go further, a sudden commotion erupted outside the tent—green light flashed, and screams broke out among the crowd.
Lockhart snapped back to his senses. He hadn't come to the World Cup to fool around—he came to kill Barty Crouch Jr. If he could eliminate him, the Triwizard Tournament plot would never happen. Protect Harry, and Voldemort's resurrection could be delayed indefinitely. Then he could finally live a stable life as a professor.
He pulled Pandora up. The girl looked dazed, her clothes slightly disheveled.
"Sorry, Pandora. I got carried away—I didn't mean anything. Something's happening outside, let's go take a look."
As he spoke, he helped her straighten her clothes and led her out, supporting her as she leaned weakly against him.
Outside, people were running everywhere. After several tents caught fire, the situation quickly spiraled out of control.
"Let's go—be careful," Lockhart said, half-carrying her as they followed the crowd toward the forest.
As they neared the trees, Lockhart heard voices—Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
"Hermione is a witch!" Harry shouted.
"Mind your own business, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "If you think they can't tell a mudblood apart, go ahead and believe that."
"Watch your mouth!" Ron snapped. Everyone present knew how insulting that word was.
Lockhart approached and cleared his throat.
Malfoy immediately fell silent when he saw him.
"Professor, I'm so glad you're okay!" Hermione exclaimed.
Harry snorted with laughter.
Lockhart wiped sweat from his brow. "Of course I'm fine. Hermione, can you not use the same line every time?"
"Uh… alright, I really am happy," she said, then noticed Pandora beside him. The flush hadn't faded from Pandora's face. "What happened to her?" Hermione felt a pang in her chest.
"Ahem—Pandora was in my tent discussing the match with me when the chaos started."
"Discussing the match?" Hermione's skepticism was obvious, though she quickly held back. "Oh… right. It was a great match, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was. But Professor—my wand is gone!" Harry said urgently.
"Your wand is gone? What did I teach you? Your head can fall, your blood can flow—but never let go of your wand!" Lockhart scolded.
"Maybe it's in the tent," Ron said.
"Or it fell when we were running," Hermione added nervously.
"Yeah… maybe…" Harry said.
A rustling sound made them all jump. Winky, the house-elf, stumbled through the bushes. She seemed to be struggling against something invisible, as if being pulled back.
"Bad wizards everywhere!" she squeaked frantically, then bolted off deeper into the forest.
"What's she doing?" Ron asked curiously. "Why can't she just run normally?"
"I bet she wasn't allowed to hide," Harry said, thinking of Dobby and the punishments he endured.
"You know house-elves are treated terribly!" Hermione said angrily. "It's slavery! When Mr. Crouch told her to go to the top of the stadium, she was terrified. She couldn't even run when the tents were being destroyed! Why can't something be done for them?"
"Uh… but elves like it, don't they?" Ron said. "Didn't Winky say they're not supposed to have fun? That means she likes being ordered around."
"It's people like you," Hermione snapped, "who support this rotten, unfair system—because you're too lazy to change it!"
"Can we just keep moving?" Ron said irritably.
They continued forward, Harry still patting his pockets even though he knew his wand was gone.
Suddenly, a strange incantation echoed through the forest:
"Morsmordre!"
A massive green symbol burst into the sky, rising above the treetops.
"What is that?" Ron asked.
Lockhart's eyes sharpened. The target had appeared.
He released Pandora, drew his wand, and surged with magic—his body transforming into a streak of white light as he shot toward the source of the spell, leaving everyone stunned behind.
"What's wrong with the professor? What is that?" Pandora asked fearfully.
"Who's there?"
"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione's voice trembled. "It's… it's You-Know-Who's sign!"
"Voldemort?" Harry gasped.
"Can the professor handle that person?" Ron muttered.
"No—he's definitely not a match for You-Know-Who. We have to help him!" Hermione said, suddenly very clear-headed.
Lockhart pushed his magic to the limit and arrived at the scene in an instant. A shadowy figure had just thrown down a wand and was about to flee.
"Avada Kedavra!"
He cast the Killing Curse without hesitation. It required genuine intent to kill—and for the first time, Lockhart truly wanted someone dead. Killing him would prove that changing the story proactively was possible. Lockhart needed that certainty.
The figure was startled, quickly drawing their wand and countering with the same curse, knocking Lockhart's spell aside.
Lockhart pressed forward relentlessly. If he couldn't even defeat Barty Crouch Jr., then how could he hope to change fate?