Old Foley came to serve Moriarty.
It is said that age brings wisdom, and in Old Foley's case, this was absolutely true. As Lockhart's most prominent business partner, he had the privilege of receiving Lockhart's manuscript drafts ahead of anyone else.
From last year's Dancing with Slytherin in Eastern Tibet to this year's Dancing with Vampires in the Eiffel Tower, every story reached Old Foley first—allowing him to reach a terrifying conclusion.
Lockhart was working for Moriarty.
If Lockhart had been merely a best-selling author in wizarding Britain, this would not have caused much concern. After all, the ancient pure-blood families often sponsored public figures to serve as their mouthpieces.
But Slytherin was not like any other old family—and Lockhart was not just a flamboyant writer. He wore many masks.
What role was he currently playing?
Old Foley remembered that Lockhart had gone to Paris recently, where he supposedly fought with a vampire.
When this outlandish news reached Old Foley, it sounded even more unbelievable than the rumor of Merlin's resurrection.
How had the man who once only knew the Obliviate charm suddenly become the kind of wizard who could freeze the Eiffel Tower? A chivalrous protector of pure-blood interests?
If Lockhart truly served Moriarty, then everything fell into place.
Before his trip to France, Lockhart had traveled all over North America delivering lectures on the dangers of dark magic.
What a clever anti-dark magic crusader!
Old Foley sneered. The more he pieced things together, the more convinced he became: Lockhart was acting under Moriarty's orders. And judging by his actions, Moriarty was planning something monumental.
Old Foley reflected on his past. Decades ago, he had invested all his wealth and joined Voldemort's cause alongside his son. It was a gamble that had earned him both power and wealth.
But Voldemort lost his way. In the end, Old Foley lost his son, and his family fortune was badly depleted.
Now, Moriarty—a rising star—presented the opportunity to restore the Foley name. So Old Foley approached Lockhart, signaled his willingness to serve, and expressed his desire to meet Moriarty in person.
Lockhart sought Moriarty's opinion on the matter. Moriarty left it up to Lockhart to evaluate Old Foley's loyalty.
Thus began a series of overt and covert investigations into Foley's actions and allegiances. Finally, at Christmas, Lockhart was satisfied—and led Old Foley into Slytherin Castle.
It happened to coincide with Old Flint's return from Romania. The three arrived together, and Old Foley's conviction deepened.
Luke guided them to the castle's grand hall, where Moriarty was hosting a Christmas dinner.
Atop a long emerald and green-jade table, Moriarty and Tonks sat at the head. Jericho, Marcus, and Leon occupied three armchairs to the right.
Three armchairs on the left remained vacant. Jericho kept glancing at them, guessing which of Moriarty's agents might fill them.
Then Lockhart and his company arrived. Tonks narrowed her eyes at Lockhart suspiciously. It wasn't until she saw his iconic golden, wavy curls that she believed it was indeed him.
"Moriarty," Tonks scoffed playfully, "you never told me you invited Mr. Lockhart."
Her tone was teasing, but beneath it lay a flush of embarrassment. Moriarty's breath still lingered in her mouth from earlier. Memories of their stolen moments made her cheeks burn.
It wouldn't have been an issue—Jericho and the others would never suspect anything untoward.
But now Lockhart had appeared.
Tonks composed herself quickly—she braided her hair neatly, straightened her robes, and put on the graceful air of a Slytherin lady.
Yet when Lockhart spotted Moriarty, he practically leapt with joy. He bounded over and bowed deeply, beaming with excitement.
"Master! Master! Your loyal servant greets you—Merry Christmas!"
Tonks couldn't help giggling. Lockhart's enthusiasm was like that of an eager colt.
"Huh?" Her laughter stopped short. She turned to Moriarty, eyes wide. "What did Lockhart just call you?"
Lockhart straightened up proudly and declared, "I am the young master's most loyal subordinate, his most efficient assistant, his hardest-working servant, his most reliable valet, and his most intelligent aide!"
Moriarty gave a mild cough. Lockhart quickly composed himself, offering Tonks a deep, elegant bow.
"Dear Madam, your servant Lockhart reports to you! A pleasure to meet you. Merry Christmas, Madam."
"And me," came another voice.
Old Flint stepped out from behind Lockhart and offered his formal greetings and well wishes to Moriarty and Tonks.
Tonks was briefly overwhelmed by the formalities. Jericho and Leon, too, were momentarily frozen in surprise.
They had never seen Lockhart or Old Flint before, and now, watching both pay such devoted respect, they were left speechless.
Jericho and Leon exchanged glances, their earlier sense of self-importance fading. Compared to these people, their roles felt minor.
They began to reflect inwardly.
But Marcus did not seem surprised. He was used to such scenes. His eyes turned to Old Foley.
"Sir," Marcus said respectfully, "the patriarch of House Foley is here."
He was doing his duty as Moriarty's aide. Lockhart perked up, suddenly remembering, and leaned toward Moriarty to explain Old Foley's situation.
Without hesitation, Old Foley knelt before Moriarty, bowed his head, and solemnly pledged, "I offer the honor of the Foley family and my very soul. I swear on Merlin's name that my family and I will serve Moriarty Slytherin, now and for generations to come."
Then, glancing at Tonks, he added shrewdly, "And I pledge to serve the descendants of Slytherin for generations as well."
Descendants?
Tonks blushed and placed her hands instinctively on her stomach. Moriarty hadn't even... well—not yet, anyway.
Lockhart leaned over to Old Foley and whispered something, presumably teasing.
Old Flint chuckled. He and Marcus were both Moriarty's men; they didn't worry about hierarchy.
Moriarty reached out to lift Old Foley to his feet. Letting the elderly kneel felt wrong. He wasn't Voldemort, nor was he the ruthless Vampire Duke.
"I accept your loyalty, Old Foley," Moriarty said calmly. "But let me make something clear. With me, you don't have to grovel to earn favor. You don't need to burn your wealth or shed blood to prove your worth.
Everyone here serves not out of fear—but out of loyalty, bravery, and their shared desire to pursue the heights of magic!"
With each word Moriarty spoke, Old Foley's eyes lit up further.
"To stand by your side and hear your words, I feel young again," Old Foley responded.
He stood beside Old Flint and took the third chair to the left with pride.
"Everyone, take your seats," Moriarty said, pressing his palms downward.
Lockhart sat in the first chair on the left, Old Flint in the second, and Old Foley in the third.
"Get to know one another. From this night on, you are colleagues—companions on the magical path. Comrades who can trust each other with their lives."
Jericho was the first to chime in with a smile.
"I never expected Mr. Lockhart to be one of us. A while back, he was at Ilvermorny School in the U.S., promoting a new book. My older brother was fuming because he couldn't get a copy."
"No need for 'Mr.' when addressing me," Lockhart said with a hearty grin. "But please maintain my public persona."
He chuckled. "As for the new book—if your brother wants it, I'll give him a full set."
"No issue," said Old Foley. "I even have a collector's edition, signed by Lockhart himself."
"Old Foley!" Lockhart huffed. "So it was you! How many sets did you stash away without telling me?"
"Cough. Only fifteen," Old Foley replied smoothly. "In my defense, I didn't know you were the young master's man at the time."
"As if you were, too, back then," Lockhart grumbled. "Hand them over—they belong to my fans!"
"Um…" Jericho said, raising a hand, "Could we each get a set first? Wait—make that two sets. I want to give one to my brother as a Christmas gift."
"Good lad," Old Foley chuckled. "You've got the Slytherin spirit."
Leon suddenly grinned. "Looks like everyone here is a Slytherin—except Lockhart!"
Lockhart looked to Tonks for support. Knowing she had been a Hufflepuff, he playfully pretended to sob.
"Dear Madam, did you see that? They're ganging up on your poor servant!"
Tonks just smiled, resting her head on Moriarty's shoulder and enjoying the banter.
"This has nothing to do with Senior Sister," Jericho said, feigning menace. "She's with Mr. Moriarty now—so she's a Slytherin, too.
So, Lockhart—you're surrounded. Time to pledge allegiance."
"You little rascal…" Lockhart lunged at Jericho, and Marcus and Leon quickly joined the playful scuffle.
Moriarty watched them with satisfaction. His team was growing stronger and closer.
"Alright," he said finally, raising his hand. "Let's talk business. The 1990 Quidditch World Cup is about to begin. I'll be leading the national team to Canada to register in person. Our next moves will be based in North America."