Everything was ready.
As he returned to his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Lockhart’s expression grew increasingly solemn.
Magical experiments had always been synonymous with danger, filled with countless unknown risks.
Far too many people had died because of magical experiments.
In the original story, the reason Luna Lovegood could see Thestrals was that when she was nine years old, her mother blew herself up while conducting a Charms experiment.
Cases like that were far from rare.
Even basic potion brewing could be extremely dangerous.
If Professor Snape weren’t constantly watching over the students, no one knew how many accidents would occur.
Dark Wizards and adult witches and wizards who had left school didn’t enjoy the protection of a Potions Master.
Every year, newspapers reported deaths and permanent injuries caused by potion accidents.
Such stories were so common that they were relegated to the back corners of the paper.
Take Asphodel Root, a commonly used potion ingredient, for example.
During its growing phase, its roots were highly susceptible to infection by a fungus known as Lydochek Disease Fungus.
One could easily imagine the disaster that would occur if an Asphodel Root filled with magic-infused fungal threads were dropped into a cauldron.
Such an incident was practically impossible at Hogwarts, though.
Snape wouldn’t even need to intervene.
The school governors who controlled Hogwarts’ procurement channels would have long since arranged for professional herbologists to carefully inspect and select clean ingredients.
After all, their own children attended the school as well.
That was why one could never be too careful with magical experiments.
The Occamy Skull Crystal Pensieve, the Felix Felicis, and his newly replaced wand, Lockhart inspected each of them over and over again.
He paid particular attention to the wand, trying out several spells.
Unfortunately, aside from successfully casting ‘Obliviate’, even the simplest Levitation Charm only managed to make the papers on his desk flutter slightly.
He wasn’t discouraged, though.
Simply being able to clearly sense the magic flowing within his body was something that would have made his former self envious.
He understood the importance of being content with progress.
“What else do I need to prepare?” After thinking seriously for a moment, his eyes suddenly lit up.
He sat down at his desk and began writing letters to Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco, instructing the four children to come to his office after dinner for additional training.
If something went wrong during the experiment, the kids could go find another professor for help.
Originally, he had intended to summon students from the N.E.W.T.
classes.
However, considering the older students finally had a free weekend to visit Hogsmeade or spend time with their sweethearts, he decided to call upon Harry and the others instead, who seemed to have endless free time every day.
After sending the letters off with an owl, he hung a sign on his office door reading: “Magical Experiment in Progress – Do Not Disturb” He closed the doors and windows, then pulled the Golden Retriever over and repeatedly instructed it on what to do.
“I bought you toys, didn’t I?
You need to be useful when it really matters, understand?” The Golden Retriever blinked obediently and nodded.
Hugging its newly acquired magical eye toy, it trotted over to the office door and sat beneath it like a loyal guard.
“Very good.” Lockhart was quite satisfied with its performance.
He opened the bottle of Felix Felicis and took a sip.
Then he rubbed his face, trying to calm his nerves as quickly as possible.
“Stay calm…” Taking deep breaths, he did his best to relax and immerse himself in the effortless, composed state that the original Lockhart possessed whenever he cast spells.
That state was the key to successful spellcasting.
Being overly concerned about gains and losses would only leave his magic confused about what commands it was supposed to follow.
The technique for extracting memories was actually quite simple.
He placed his wand against his temple and slowly, gently, carefully drew out a glowing silver, thread-like substance.
With a flick of his wand, he tossed it into the Pensieve.
The crystal Occamy skull suddenly lit up.
Countless mysterious patterns and runic inscriptions appeared across its surface.
Soon, the silver substance transformed into a pool of silvery, mist-like liquid inside the previously empty basin.
This was merely a test.
He wanted to verify whether the Pensieve sold by Borgin had any hidden defects.
Fortunately, greedy though Borgin was, he still maintained a merchant’s integrity.
The Pensieve functioned perfectly.
Looking down into the silver liquid, Lockhart could vaguely make out the image of an elderly wizard carrying a pumpkin lantern, walking through the streets of a village.
Lockhart observed the memory with great interest from this unusual perspective.
The old wizard pushed open the door to his house, changed into his nightclothes, extinguished the oil lamp, and curled his thin, withered body into the warmth of his bed.
Letting out a long, satisfied sigh, he quickly drifted off to sleep.
Soon, the sound of his snoring filled the room.
Moonlight spilled across the windowsill.
In the dimly lit room came the faint rustle of cloth.
A hand slowly emerged from beneath the bed, gripping a slender wand and aiming it at the elderly wizard sleeping above.
“‘Obliviate!'” No one knew just how powerful Lockhart’s Memory Charm truly was.
In fact, when many spells were pushed to their absolute limits, the effects they produced far exceeded what ordinary people could imagine.
Take the Patronus Charm, for example.
Sure, the spell could be used against the Dementors guarding Azkaban, yet nobody else had ever achieved anything as outrageous as Harry Potter.
With a single casting, hundreds of Dementors fled in panic.
That was not an effect a normal wizard could produce; otherwise, Azkaban would have been overrun long ago.
Lockhart’s ‘Obliviate’ was no different.
As the magic took effect, the old wizard on the bed trembled slightly.
A silver glow spread across his skull, and strands of silver light emerged from his head like spirit serpents, twisting and swaying through the air before diving into Lockhart’s head beneath the bed like fish returning to water.
Memory theft.
It was just that simple.
When Lockhart quietly departed, the elderly wizard remained fast asleep, still snoring and enjoying pleasant dreams.
When he awoke the next day, he would still be as powerful as ever.
The only difference would be that the most brilliant memories of his life were gone.
That was all.
In truth, many powerful wizards never even realized Lockhart had stolen their memories.
Human thought was a peculiar thing.
When parts of a person’s memory were lost or altered, the mind instinctively protected itself by smoothing over inconsistencies and eliminating any sense of contradiction.
It would even automatically modify certain memories to accommodate the changes, making everything appear perfectly reasonable in the end.
Aurors did this to Muggles all the time.
No one had ever heard of a Muggle suffering a mental breakdown or memory collapse because of it.
Back in his office, Lockhart’s movements grew increasingly swift.
One memory after another was extracted.
The original Lockhart’s memories.
The memories of the dozen or so powerful wizards.
He stripped away every single memory, using the process to examine whether anything was wrong with his own mind and to determine whether those memories had influenced him.
Everything proceeded smoothly.
By the later stages, Lockhart could casually wave his wand and have the silver strands drifting from his temple fly automatically into the Pensieve.
The process itself inspired new ideas.
Building upon the original Lockhart’s understanding of ‘Obliviate’, he began developing fresh insights and possibilities.
Yet the more proficient he became, the more cautious he grew.
He gripped his wand tightly, not daring to relax in the slightest.
However, the wizarding world’s absurdities often worked in exactly this manner.
When only the final fragment of memory remained in his head… Everything stopped.
Or rather, a tremendous wave of terror surged from the depths of his soul, violently shocking his mind.
‘Stop!’ ‘Stop immediately!’ Lockhart’s hand froze in place.
Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, a crystal-clear realization hit him.
He, the transmigrator, was a Muggle.
Without these memories performing their function within his brain, he was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And that meant he faced a terrifying problem.
If he completely stripped away every last one of these powerful wizards’ memories, he would become a true Muggle.
And a Muggle couldn’t put the memories stored inside a Pensieve back into their own head.
In fact, inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, even among the greatest wizards alive, there was probably no one capable of casually taking memories from a Pensieve and putting them back into their mind.
Not even Dumbledore.
Lockhart reacted instantly.
Before panic even had time to show on his face, he skillfully swung his wand toward the Pensieve.
“‘Obliviate!'” In an instant, every memory stored inside the Pensieve erupted outward.
Countless silver strands poured into the air, drifting and twisting as they flew back toward Lockhart’s head.
Unfortunately, this experiment seemed to have yielded almost nothing.
The only thing he had confirmed was that, in his previous life, he had been a Muggle.
That hardly counted as a discovery.
Oh, wait.
There was one other realization.
The original Lockhart had been an idiot.
Relying on his powerful ‘Obliviate’, he had recklessly stuffed memory after memory containing magical power into his head, yet possessed no method whatsoever for organizing or controlling them.
No wonder he had ended up mentally ruined.
Narrowing his eyes, Lockhart watched the rapidly approaching silver strands.
He realized these things weren’t merely memories.
At least, not simple ones.
It seemed he would need to research the magical knowledge related to this field in the future.
Lockhart sighed and waited patiently for the memories to return to his brain.
Then, suddenly… His expression changed drastically.
“Not good!” he cried out in alarm.