Lockhart was about to utter some polite words of thanks when the sudden appearance of the flying car in the distant sky cut him off.
Its engine roared as it carried its occupants straight towards the direction of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.
Seeing this, Lockhart and Snape hastily discarded the wine bottles in their hands, drew their wands one after the other, and rushed straight for the Forbidden Forest.
“Avis!”
Lockhart took the lead, conjuring a large flock of birds from the tip of his wand.
Then, with a flick of his wand towards the air, he summoned invisible ropes that attached themselves to the small birds in the sky, lifting him by his left wrist as they flew towards the forest.
Beside him, Snape, with an air of utter nonchalance, caused himself to float upwards, rising as if riding clouds and mist like a legendary immortal being, also heading in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.
Watching Snape’s ethereal demeanor while he himself dangled like a rescue worker under a helicopter, Lockhart would be lying if he said he wasn’t envious.
If he remembered correctly, this special flying charm had only ever been used by Voldemort and Snape from start to finish, with no third person capable of flying in such a dashing manner.
Dumbledore might have been able to, but he relied more on phoenixes for transportation.
According to the words of the magic master J.K.
Rowling herself, it was very dangerous and unnecessary for wizards to fly without tools.
Controlling flight was extremely difficult; the slightest misstep in the air or a break in magical power would cause a fall.
Only someone like Voldemort, with abundant magical power and no fear of being shot down from the sky, would have the confidence to use it.
Being able to invent spells and even learn the flying charm from Voldemort—something even Bellatrix couldn’t grasp—Severus Snape was indeed a genius.
Compared to him, Lockhart only felt confident about winning in the area of Memory Charms; everything else fell far short.
Without a broomstick or other means of transport, he could only resort to this clever trick to fly.
They followed the car from afar, watching it zigzag across the sky before finally crashing headlong into the Whomping Willow by the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Although the landing could hardly be called safe, Snape and Lockhart still breathed a sigh of relief—as long as they hadn’t entered the forest, the two little troublemakers were safe.
At least there was no life-threatening danger.
“Hmph.” Snape’s cold chuckle carried on the wind.
“I hope the Whomping Willow has broken every bone in their limbs.
Only that would keep restless fellows in line for a while.”
Why put on such an act?
If Lily Potter’s son were really hurt, Snape would probably blow his top on the spot, Lockhart thought to himself.
“We need to hurry over and check on them,” Lockhart said.
“Use a healing charm first.
If there are bone issues, we’ll need to float them to Madam Pomfrey.”
Snape gave an almost imperceptible nod, but his words remained stubborn.
“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
I think a mere Whomping Willow shouldn’t be a problem for the famous Gilderoy Lockhart, right?”
“You’re not coming?”
“I am the Potions master.
My duty is to prepare healing potions if you three come back bruised and battered—though I may not be particularly skilled at treating facial injuries.
Scarring is a possibility.” Snape stared at Lockhart’s face, speaking in a tone laden with ill intent.
Lockhart found it amusing inwardly—Snape was all sharp words but a soft heart, yet he still insisted on acting as if he wished Harry dead.
Anyone who didn’t know the truth would likely be completely fooled.
“Fine, I’ll go alone then, and tell them Professor Snape is deeply concerned about them from afar,” Lockhart said deliberately.
Snape’s expression changed.
“Don’t involve me.
If not for the Headmaster’s request, I wouldn’t be out here.”
Lockhart smirked slyly at Snape.
“Then…
how long will it take to brew the color-changing potion for the contact lenses?”
“I’ll have it ready within a week…
a cauldron’s worth.
Should be enough for you, right?” Snape asked through gritted teeth.
“Plenty, even with some to spare.” Lockhart strode off.
Watching his retreating back, Snape very much wanted to use “Sectumsempra” to sever the invisible ropes on Lockhart’s hands.
Having coerced Snape a little, Lockhart flew cheerfully to the Whomping Willow, only to see the tree wildly lashing its branches while Harry and Ron crouched awkwardly, scrambling about on all fours.
He really should have borrowed Colin’s camera, Lockhart thought, regretting the missed opportunity.
But he hadn’t forgotten his duty.
Pulling out his wand, he pointed at a small stone on the ground: “Waddiwasi!”
As Lockhart uttered the spell, the small stone shot out in the direction he was looking, hitting a knot on the Whomping Willow.
The Whomping Willow instantly shuddered as if struck by lightning, then went completely still.
Harry and Ron, who had been covering the backs of their heads and crawling on their elbows and knees, suddenly noticed the surroundings had grown quiet.
When they looked up, they found someone standing before them.
“Get up quickly.
You’ve missed the Sorting, but if you hurry, you might still make it for dinner.”
Lockhart bent down and extended a hand to Harry and Ron.
“Er…
thank you, Professor Lockhart.” Ron was the first to react.
He stealthily tilted his head back to glance at the Whomping Willow, now battered by the flying car—their family car had already disappeared at some point.
“Professor, look, about this…” he asked miserably.
“Determining responsibility isn’t up to me.
My job is to get you both safely and intact to the school, give you a full meal, and then report everything I saw to the Headmaster.”
Lockhart had no intention of lecturing them about responsibility.
He simply dealt with the matter efficiently.
This was Harry’s first time seeing Gilderoy Lockhart in person.
Although he’d heard plenty of praise from Mrs.
Mason during the summer, some things had to be seen firsthand.
He seemed like a man who got things done with decisive efficiency.
“Episkey!
Reparo!
Scourgify!” Lockhart hit them with the bachelor’s triple charm combo.
Then he noticed Ron’s wand, broken in two with only a few splinters holding it together.
“Even the wand’s broken?
That can’t be fixed.”
He showed a look of regret.
“Can’t it be fixed?”
Ron’s expression was a picture, as if he’d heard Mrs.
Weasley say she’d never give him another Knut of pocket money for the rest of his life.
“It can’t be fixed,” Lockhart said regretfully.
“Not even Mr.
Ollivander himself could repair it.
It’s a magical object.
Using Spellotape and a wooden splint of the same wood might only hold it together a bit longer.
Now, Mr.
Weasley, and…
Mr.
Potter, you are Potter, right?
I saw your scar.”
“Yes, Professor.” Harry Potter visibly flinched at the word “scar.”
“Gather your things.
Extend your left hands.
We need to speed up, or we really will miss dinner.
I heard the house-elves made steak and kidney pie.” Lockhart instructed.
Upon hearing they might miss the meal, the two immediately gathered their scattered luggage from the ground and extended their left hands to Lockhart.
Several invisible ropes wrapped around their left arms, and a force lifted them up, swiftly carrying them towards Hogwarts Castle.