With his friends' reassurance, Avada gradually relaxed. Before long, he was chatting happily with them again—this time finally able to take part in the discussion about Quidditch. After watching a proper match last year, he'd slowly begun to take some interest in it.
Of course, actually playing was still out of the question.
And thanks to Voldemort's "contribution" last year, their conversations no longer revolved solely around Quidditch. Instead, they branched out—praise for Avada and Baron, the impact of Voldemort's capture, Dumbledore's declaration, and the future direction of magical society… one topic after another.
And so, amid cheerful chatter, the train arrived at its destination together with the setting sun.
Now third-years, Avada and Baron finally got to enjoy the feeling of seniors leading juniors, guiding Harry and the others to the Thestral carriage station. The structures on the Thestrals' bodies were as abstract and distorted as ever—and this time, Avada could finally see them with his own eyes. He'd witnessed Quirrell's death last year, and so had Baron and Harry.
The Thestral Avada chose locked eyes with him, snorted in surprise—as if astonished that it had been noticed—and even grew a bit self-conscious when it started running, causing Avada's carriage to lag slightly behind the rest.
Avada: …
You lot are invisible and still socially anxious?!
And that wasn't all. Just as Avada stepped into the Great Hall, ready—like last year—to enjoy watching the first-years, someone suddenly let out a shrill scream toward the staff table:
"Gilderoy Lockhart!!"
The Great Hall fell silent for a few seconds—then exploded into noise. Screams and excited discussion instantly drowned everything out. The handsome man Avada had never seen before—clearly Lockhart—rose to his feet with a dazzling smile, making calming gestures with both hands, his lips moving as if he were speaking… though no one could hear a word.
Looking slightly awkward, he nudged Professor Sprout beside him. After she cast a Sonorus Charm on him in astonishment, his voice finally echoed through the hall:
"Please, don't get too excited, children—do try to calm yourselves… You're not mistaken. I, Gilderoy Lockhart, will indeed be your new professor this year…"
The noise below only grew louder.
"But do kindly rein in the cheering for now—we still have the Sorting Ceremony to attend to, don't we? So I won't introduce myself just yet. After all, that's our Headmaster Dumbledore's job…"
After repeated efforts from Lockhart, the chaos finally subsided a little, though murmurs still rippled through the hall. And while everyone else was staring at Lockhart, Avada took the opportunity to observe him openly and without restraint.
"Mediocre mental strength," he assessed silently. "A bit stronger than the average adult wizard, but probably not even on par with a Beater…"
"No particular structure suited to the Memory Charm—likely just the result of obsessive practice. Makes sense; with that level of mental strength, he can only truly master one or two spells…"
"Merlin—he's not nervous at all? Sitting so confidently among a table full of heavyweights?"
Avada narrowed his eyes.
He'd spent the summer meticulously reading every single book in the Lockhart series. He had to admit—they were genuinely well written. With elegant prose, Lockhart presented one thrilling adventure after another, richly detailed and methodically structured, sprinkled with witty humor and perfectly timed emotional beats. He succeeded not only in telling good stories, but also in crafting the image of a powerful, knowledgeable, kind, and courageous adventurer.
What's more, the books were packed with information, presented vividly and memorably—truth be told, with a competent teacher, they really could serve as textbooks.
But the moment Avada remembered that every one of those gripping stories was plagiarized, and that their original owners had all had their memories erased, left muddled and hollow…
The better the stories were, the more disgusted he felt toward Lockhart.
"This time, you won't have a broken wand to wipe your own memory and escape justice…"
"Voldemort—help me one last time. Lend me the curse you left behind!"
Muttering words that would probably make Voldemort furious enough to crawl out of his prison, Avada joined the other students in settling down, fixing a serious gaze on the Great Hall doors as they slowly opened. Professor McGonagall led the first-years inside, then efficiently sealed the hall's sound with magic.
"…Let the Sorting begin."
After the Sorting Hat finished its song, Professor McGonagall picked up her parchment and read aloud:
"Albert Adams!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Colin Creevey!"
"Gryffindor!"
…
"Luna Lovegood!"
"Ravenclaw!"
Avada raised an eyebrow, deliberately giving the blond girl on the platform an extra look.
"…Ginny Weasley!"
"Gryffindor!"
Once the Sorting concluded, Dumbledore rose to his feet, smiling broadly as he addressed the hall:
"I'm sure you've all noticed that a familiar new face has joined our teaching staff this year. Allow me to formally introduce him once more—"
At Dumbledore's gesture, Lockhart stood up, beaming, as Dumbledore continued:
"It is my great honor to invite Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart to serve as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!"
"He is a renowned adventurer, a celebrated bestselling author, and an honorary member of the International Dark Magic Defense Alliance. Many of you have read his works and likely know his abilities and knowledge even better than I do. I trust that Professor Lockhart will convey this knowledge to you in the most lively and engaging manner…"
"And now—let us feast!"
At once, tables filled with all manner of food. Students who'd been holding back all evening finally burst into animated conversation—
"Lockhart actually came to teach here! Merlin, I can't believe it—I'll get to see him every day!"
"But isn't he afraid of the curse? What if he ends up permanently injured—wouldn't that be the end of his adventuring career?"
"Maybe that's exactly why he came. Braving danger in a mysterious ancient castle under a curse… just thinking about it sounds exciting!"
"But—have you noticed how awful Professor Snape looks?"
"Didn't you hear? Over the summer, the prices of the potions he endorsed and personally brewed plummeted. Supposedly it was because of an article by Rita Skeeter…"
As for Avada, he ate in silence, calculating inwardly:
Dumbledore really doesn't know Lockhart's a fraud… makes sense. If he did, he never would've hired him. It's not like he's got Voldemort stuck on the back of his head anymore.
I need to see Dumbledore tonight and tell him about the Basilisk and the diary as soon as possible. Tomorrow, I'll take Harry to the abandoned bathroom to check the Chamber entrance. If everything checks out, I'll finally be able to relax…
(End of Chapter)