By 1992, both ‘Cellar Rot’ and the ‘Wrongfully Slain Fairy’ had become extremely rare Dark Creatures.
In fact, as Muggle technology and culture flourished, the wizarding world had changed dramatically.
Expanding human settlements squeezed out the habitats of magical creatures, while changing beliefs and lifestyles gradually eroded the traditions that had once allowed them to thrive.
Many creatures that had once been commonplace throughout wizarding history were now on the verge of disappearing.
The most obvious example was that the old subject ‘Defense Against Magical Creatures’ had eventually become ‘Care of Magical Creatures’.
Even dragons, among the most powerful magical beings, had begun relying on breeding reserves to preserve their populations.
At this rate, who knew?
Maybe one day ‘Defense Against Dark Creatures’ would become ‘Dark Creature Conservation’.
Cellar Rot, at least, hadn’t vanished entirely.
Every so often, it still turned up in stories about cursed houses and haunted estates.
The Wrongfully Slain Fairy, on the other hand, had seemingly disappeared without a trace over the past thirty or forty years.
“These two Dark Creatures produce very similar effects,” Lockhart explained smoothly, “But their true natures are fundamentally different.” As he spoke, a thought suddenly occurred to him.
Maybe he should follow in Newt Scamander’s footsteps and write his own ‘Where to Find Dark Creatures’.
Not because he wanted the royalties.
He was perfectly satisfied with the fortune the original Lockhart had accumulated and had no desire to chase more money.
What he wanted was to become stronger.
Just as he’d told Hermione, a wizard needed to learn to make the best use of their natural talents.
Find the field where those talents could truly shine, immerse yourself in it like stepping into a fairy tale, and your abilities would naturally grow much faster.
His own talent was clearly in dealing with Dark Creatures.
Realizing that so soon after arriving in this world was an incredible stroke of luck.
Back in his previous life, he’d lived for decades without ever discovering what he was truly good at.
Still, priorities came first.
Writing a book could wait.
The Urquhart family castle that Professor McGonagall had mentioned, that was a golden opportunity.
Compared to facing Dark Creatures alone after his one-year teaching contract at Hogwarts expired, this investigation would let him work alongside Professor McGonagall and the Urquhart family.
He’d be a fool to let an opportunity like that slip away.
— Professor McGonagall, of course, had no idea Lockhart was deliberately seeking out Dark Creatures to strengthen himself.
Seeing how devoted he was to helping with the matter, she couldn’t help feeling a little touched.
“Cellar Rot is also known as ‘Black Fuzz’,” Lockhart continued.
“Its defining feature is the black, hair-like fibers that appear in the blood of the corpses it creates.” He frowned involuntarily.
An image from his memories surfaced in his mind.
‘Good grief…
that thing is disgusting.’ “It shares the common traits of Dark Creatures that breed in dark, hidden places.
There’s usually a faint smell of decay or stale blood, sometimes mixed with a strangely sweet scent.” “That odor often attracts venomous snakes, leeches, spiders, and all kinds of poisonous insects.” “Cellar Rot’s scent is slightly sour with a hint of sweetness.
If you lick it, your tongue goes mildly numb, almost like it’s been shocked by a tiny electric current.” …Lick blood full of black hairs?
Professor McGonagall quietly took half a step away from him.
“Its magical attribute is ‘decay’.
That’s why the sounds it produces always carry a sense of sorrow, regret, or lament over the passage of time.” “As for the ‘Wrongfully Slain Fairy’…
also called the ‘Witch on the Stake’…
it’s much easier to identify.
If you trace the source of its voice, you’ll find the pale, translucent figure of a witch bound to an execution stake.” “The earliest records of this Dark Creature date back to around the founding of Hogwarts, during the witch-hunt era.
Many of the people burned at the stake weren’t witches at all.
It was called witch-hunting, but in reality it was persecution.” “The injustice was so great that even the earth mourned for the victims.
Snakes and insects gathered from the forests, and the land itself seemed to weep tears of blood.” “And yet, seeing these strange omens only convinced people they’d executed the right person.
They believed the victim truly had been an evil witch, which is how the name ‘Wrongfully Slain Fairy’ came to be.” The legend behind this Dark Creature was, at its heart, a tale of an innocent Muggle woman who was persecuted, transformed into a witch, and returned to seek vengeance.
It had the unmistakable feel of a dark, satirical fairy tale.
“When you encounter this kind of Dark Creature,” Lockhart said, “listen carefully to its song.
Hidden beneath it is an almost imperceptible second voice, the voice of the earth itself, whispering: ”Stop burning her.
Bury her in the soil and let her decay.
Only then can she be reborn.”” “Of course, the easiest way to identify it is that you’ll also hear birds singing.
Little ‘chirp, chirp’ sounds.” “Cellar Rot has its own signature sound too.
It resembles blood bubbling… ‘blub…
blub…
blub…’ The important part is the echo.
At first they seem similar, but once you’ve heard them, they’re actually easy to tell apart.” Lockhart tried to imitate the sounds himself.
Unfortunately, he was terrible at sound effects.
After a moment’s thought, he pulled a decorative crystal ball from the crooked bookshelf that had been warped by the enormous tree growing through his office.
Handing it to Professor McGonagall, he said, “I’ll demonstrate.
Use magic to record it, then give the recording to Mr.
Urquhart.
We need to identify the creature first before we can prepare the right plan to deal with it.” Professor McGonagall accepted the crystal ball.
Watching him rise with such focused determination, she sighed.
“Professor Lockhart…
I don’t know how to thank you…” Lockhart smiled and shook his head.
“You’ve shown me nothing but patience and support ever since I came to teach at Hogwarts.
I’m the one who should be thanking you.” There was no point in exchanging endless pleasantries.
Time to get to work.
For his demonstration, he needed a little help.
He led Professor McGonagall around the huge tree growing through the middle of his office, only to discover that several curious little eavesdroppers had been listening with their ears practically glued to the conversation.
Harry and the others weren’t particularly intimidated by the young Professor Lockhart.
Around him, they felt more like they were with a knowledgeable older brother.
Professor McGonagall was a different story.
The moment they saw her coming, they hurriedly gripped their wands and stood up straight.
She frowned immediately.
“You have no idea how rare it is for students to receive private instruction from a professor,” She scolded.
“When an opportunity like this presents itself, you should learn to make the most of it.” Aside from professors like Horace Slughorn, who enjoyed making connections through his club, most Hogwarts professors simply didn’t have the time or energy to tutor students outside their normal teaching duties.
If they did, they’d have no personal lives at all.
Students like Ron and Hermione would normally only receive this kind of guidance after earning outstanding O.W.L.
results and being selected for the N.E.W.T.-level classes.
Lockhart, however, wasn’t bothered.
Harry and the others were only twelve or thirteen.
They were lively, but hardly little terrors.
There was no need to be overly strict.
Still, he didn’t contradict Professor McGonagall.
Instead, he walked over to the peach tree growing beside the fireplace.
He gently knocked on the opening of a hollow in the trunk, as if knocking on someone’s front door.
Silence.
Nothing happened.
Then a streak of golden lightning shot across the room.
In the blink of an eye, the tiny three-legged monkey scrambled onto Lockhart’s shoulder, planted its hands on its hips, and glared into the hollow.
The Boggart might ignore Lockhart.
But it didn’t dare ignore a Three-Legged Creature that could manipulate fear itself.
Left with no choice, it obediently emerged.
Black smoke billowed as it reformed into the shape of a shabby wizard in tattered robes.
The young wizards stared at it nervously.
It looked every bit the sinister Dark Creature they imagined.
Professor McGonagall, however, barely spared the Boggart a glance.
Instead, she immediately moved to stand protectively in front of the children, her eyes fixed on the fluffy little monkey perched on Lockhart’s shoulder.
She certainly didn’t know everything.
The study of Dark Creatures was too strange and too profound.
Compared to the obviously sinister-looking Boggart, it was the cute, fluffy little creature that filled her with a genuine sense of danger.
Everyone else was tense.
Lockhart, on the other hand, looked positively delighted.
Rubbing his hands together with unconcealed excitement, he stared at the Boggart as though he’d found a fascinating new toy.
Perhaps dealing with Dark Creatures really was his unique gift.
After all, the original Lockhart had supposedly known plenty of theory, yet was hopeless in practice.
He couldn’t even handle a handful of Cornish Pixies.
This dangerous little magical experiment hadn’t just taught him two new spells.
More importantly, it had given him a new idea about the nature of memory itself.
That…
That was a power that truly belonged to him.
Now all he wanted was to see whether his theory would work.
He gently placed both hands on either side of the Boggart’s oversized hood, turned its face toward his own, and said eagerly, “Come on.
Be good… Feel my fear.” The Boggart had always delighted in tormenting humans.
There was no way it was going to obediently do as Lockhart said.
‘What a joke…’ ‘This?’ ‘This was easy.’ The Boggart could feel the Three-Legged Creature standing on the human’s shoulder, staring down at it with a gaze full of deadly menace.
It chose survival.
‘Feel fear?’ ‘Human…
you’re just asking for trouble.
Then let me become the thing you fear most!’ With a loud ‘bang’, its entire body exploded into black smoke.
Before anyone could react, blood began seeping out from every corner of the miniature forest that filled the office.
The blood flowed in streams, bubbling with wet ‘blub…
blub…
blub…’ sounds.
Venomous snakes, spiders, and poisonous insects crawled out from every shadow between the trees, while a haunting woman’s song drifted faintly from deep within the forest.
“Ahhhhhhh~~~” Harry and the others screamed in terror and immediately scrambled behind Professor McGonagall, practically piling on top of one another.
Lockhart ignored them.
He simply blinked, shaking himself free from the fearful state of mind that had produced the illusion.
Then he turned to Professor McGonagall.
“Listen carefully.
The sound of the blood and the singing… This is the biggest identifying characteristic of ‘Cellar Rot’.” Professor McGonagall held her wand against the crystal ball in her other hand, using magic to record both the image and the sound.
She nodded solemnly.
“Got it recorded?
Good.” “Then let’s simulate a ‘Wrongfully Slain Fairy’.” “Boggart…
feel it again.” The Boggart was completely confused.
‘Why did this human’s greatest fear keep changing?’ Even stranger, when the man entered this intensely fearful state, his mind was clearly vulnerable.
The Three-Legged Creature could have easily taken the opportunity to kill the wizard controlling it.
So why wasn’t it attacking?
Not only was it ‘not’ attacking…
It was actually helping the wizard control the Boggart.
The Boggart couldn’t understand it.
But what choice did the Boggart have?
It obediently did as it was told.
Soon, subtle changes spread through the office.
The thick, sticky blood mixed with black hairs became clearer and thinner.
The snakes and insects transformed into much less frightening species.
Birds began singing from the treetops, while the earth’s whisper joined the distant witch’s mournful song.
The entire scene looked far less horrifying.
Or at least…
Not to Harry and the others.
To them, it was still absolutely terrifying.
All they wanted to do was run.
Instead, Professor Lockhart cheerfully beckoned them closer and had them carefully observe the nightmare while he explained the differences between ‘Cellar Rot’ and the ‘Wrongfully Slain Fairy’…
two Dark Creatures that appeared remarkably similar but were fundamentally different.
After Professor McGonagall finished recording everything, Lockhart wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.
He repeatedly altered the fear in his own mind, making the Boggart switch back and forth between the two illusions over and over again.
He was certain Harry and the others would never forget this lesson.
They wouldn’t just remember it.
Hermione felt like she was on the verge of a breakdown.
She could clearly feel the golden monkey on Professor Lockhart’s shoulder staring hungrily into her eyes.
She knew exactly what it felt like to have her eyeballs taken away.
It had not been pleasant.
Surrounded by such a horrifying scene, her breathing became faster and faster.
If Draco hadn’t been standing nearby, and if she hadn’t been determined not to show even a hint of weakness, giving that disgusting boy another excuse to insult her over blood status, she would have screamed long ago.
“Excellent!
What a perfect lesson!” Hermione had been so tense that she hadn’t even noticed when Professor Lockhart dispelled the illusion.
Harry, Ron, and Draco were much the same.
As they looked around the office, now restored to its peaceful little woodland, all four let out a long breath of relief.
Professor McGonagall smiled at the sight.
“Yes,” She agreed.
“A very successful lesson.” “…Just a little intense.” At last, she could truly understand why her nephew-in-law, Mr.
Urquhart, had written such panicked letters describing what was happening inside the family castle.
Using a Boggart to recreate the manifestations of different Dark Creatures… She had never heard of anyone accomplishing something like this.
It was an extraordinary technique.
Professor Lockhart’s expertise in the field of Dark Creatures was clearly far deeper than she had imagined.