The maze's walls were made from books stacked into towering blackened barricades, ink-stained and stretching upward into the darkness of the vault, with no end in sight. The passageways were narrow, barely wide enough for two people to squeeze through side by side. There was standing water underfoot, and the entire place felt suffocatingly oppressive and sinister.
Those green "neurons" in the sky provided the only light. The glow of the Wand-Lighting Charm could only reach about ten paces before it was swallowed whole.
Skyl followed Lockhart into the maze, going along with his choice.
"Young man. Do you trust me?" Gilderoy Lockhart put both hands on Skyl's shoulders and locked eyes with him. In the maze's shadows, his eyes gleamed with something eerie.
"Just say what you want me to do," Skyl said, half-lidding his eyes at the fraud.
"Excellent. I have a plan," Lockhart said, energized. "As long as you follow my directions, we'll get back safely. And we'll win everyone's applause and devotion. Boy—do you know what power is? Power is fame. Fame is influence. If people are willing to believe you, then you become the embodiment of power."
"That's very profound, Mr. Lockhart," Skyl said, thinking seriously. "I didn't realize you were also an outstanding politician."
Seeing that expression, Lockhart let out a huge sigh of relief. "Step one: we find a safe place to stay put and wait for the right moment."
"And then?" Skyl asked.
Lockhart puffed up with self-satisfaction. "Step two: you make a few injuries on yourself—better yet, splash a bit of blood on you. Step three: we go back the way we came and walk out of the maze. Finally, you only need to tell everyone how I fought the monster in the maze and rescued you. The rest, I will handle."
"Completely fine," Skyl said with a bright, clear smile.
Lockhart clicked his tongue in delight. "Pleasure doing business." In his heart, he thought: exactly as expected—every recipient of the Order of Merlin is clever. With a little trickery, you can spin the stupid masses around in circles.
Just as he was congratulating himself, footsteps sounded behind them—water sloshing, and the bright light of a Wand-Lighting Charm.
A figure appeared at the corner.
It was Molly Weasley.
The plump, kindly woman had been wearing a stern face, but the moment she saw them she was overjoyed. "Mr. Lockhart—Skyl—you're alright! Oh, thank goodness."
Lockhart's expression turned ugly for an instant, but immediately he smoothed it into a pleasant, spring-breeze smile. "Madam, it's dangerous here. You should go back."
"I came to help you," Mrs. Weasley said, breathing a little hard, like she'd been running for a long time. "An extra pair of hands is always better, isn't it?"
Skyl spoke suddenly. "Mrs. Weasley—about how long have you been in the maze?"
"About five minutes," she answered. "You two really move fast."
Lockhart's smile froze. He exchanged a look with Skyl, then said, "We've been in here less than a minute."
Molly's expression sobered. "Time in the maze is wrong."
Skyl nodded. "I suspect it's not just time. The space is scrambled too. We can try going back to look for the entrance."
Lockhart began sweating. He stammered, trembling, "W-what do you mean?"
Skyl led them back the way they had come—only to find the entrance arch had vanished.
"We're trapped," Skyl concluded.
With his scheme collapsing in front of him, Lockhart nearly fell apart. Even his battle-tested smile couldn't hold.
"Damn it—damn it!"
He lashed out, kicking the wall where the entrance should've been, and smashed his own toe.
Clutching his injured leg, Lockhart hopped on one foot, then slipped on the water and hit the ground, letting out a shriek like he'd been shot.
Skyl and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other.
Molly, a little awkward, tried to smooth things over for him. "Mr. Lockhart is just… a bit excited."
"I'm perfectly fine. No need to help me—absolutely no need," Lockhart said, scrambling up in disgrace. Even now, he didn't forget to cast a couple of little [Scourgify] spells on himself to keep up his graceful, charming image.
He limped forward with a pained expression. Skyl suggested he cast [Episkey] on his injured toe. Lockhart blinked, suddenly enlightened. "Very clever! Though even if you hadn't said it, I was going to do that anyway."
He pulled off his shoe and sock, raised his wand, and cast a spell on the bloody toe.
Then, under the strange looks of Skyl and Molly, the spell worked.
Not by healing anything—by making all five of Lockhart's toes vanish completely.
"Oh. Merlin above," Mrs. Weasley said, squeezing her eyes shut in horror.
Lockhart's face crumpled. "It seems my spell went a bit wrong. But it's nothing. I've suffered far worse injuries—if you've read my Break with a Banshee, you'll know this is barely an appetizer."
Skyl spoke sharply. "Careful."
A banshee drifted out from the corner ahead.
Mrs. Weasley shouted, "A banshee! Mr. Lockhart—quick, use your method to deal with it!"
Lockhart stepped forward bravely. "Leave it to me—[Soul Scatter]!"
He shouted an incantation nobody had ever heard of. A burst of colorful ribbons shot from the tip of his wand and smacked into the banshee with absolutely no effect.
Well—there was one effect.
It successfully enraged her.
She released a soul-shaking scream of terror.
Lockhart fainted on the spot.
When he came to again, the banshee was already dealt with by Skyl. Mrs. Weasley was staring at Lockhart with a deeply suspicious look.
Lockhart laughed loudly as if nothing had happened. "Ah—must've been from losing too much blood earlier. I got a little dizzy for a moment. A tiny banshee, that's all. As my readers, you've surely seen in my books how to handle her. This is nothing. In my work Wandering with Werewolves, I mention that being trapped in a wolf den is the truly terrifying scenario."
Before the words were even finished, a wolf howl sounded from the corner ahead.
A pack of werewolves burst out.
Lockhart bolted—head down, legs pumping—his escape speed astonishing, and you'd never guess he had zero toes left.
Skyl and Mrs. Weasley fought together and brought the werewolves down. Their bodies melted rapidly and vanished into the water as if they'd never existed.
When they found Lockhart again, he had actually climbed up the wall.
A catastrophically bad choice.
Werewolves could climb trees.
"Mr. Lockhart, come down," Mrs. Weasley snapped, furious now—every bit the desperate housewife whose fantasy had been shattered. "It's safe here."
"No, no, no—listen. I know how to get out," Gilderoy Lockhart insisted, full of confidence. "Come up here—this wall has gravity. The correct path isn't forward. It's upward!"
Just as he said, when Mrs. Weasley pressed her body to the wall, she abruptly felt gravity's direction change. The wall sucked her in tightly. She wasn't climbing upward so much as crawling forward along a new "ground." If the passage wasn't so narrow, she could've even stood up and walked straight ahead.
"Mr. Lockhart, you're so clever!" Mrs. Weasley instantly turned back into an older fangirl.
"Of course. You've also read my works—"
"Shut up!" Skyl and Molly said at the same time.
Lockhart gave an embarrassed grin, then mimed zipping his mouth shut, indicating he'd keep quiet.
The three of them continued "up" along the wall like that. They were drawing closer to the neurons in the sky. A distant strip of "sky" looked like a green ribbon, bringing light and hope.
Mrs. Weasley asked softly, "What will be up ahead?"
Lockhart said carelessly, "Whatever it is, I'll protect you."
The answer he received was an awkward silence.
Lockhart muttered to himself, "I'm really curious… where did everyone else who entered this maze go?"
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