Chapter 87: The Girl in the Red Cloak
Lockhart didn't know what was happening to the others, but he was probably having the worst of it. Because when he opened his eyes, he saw cold iron bars.
Yes, he was a prisoner in a cell.
He grabbed the bars with both hands and tried to shake them, intending to check their sturdiness. Unexpectedly, a burst of electric sparks suddenly shot out from the bars, jolting him so hard he almost started tap-dancing.
After the shocking electric shock, he fell weakly to the ground, twitching and foaming at the mouth.
"You damned thief, still dreaming of escaping?" A tall, burly figure loomed over him. The collar of his ornate clothes featured a wolf's head, uglier than that of an average werewolf.
"You'll be locked up until you die, regretting your sins in this prison forever!"
Lockhart ignored him, just lay on the ground twitching. The powerful current continuously stimulated his nerves, completely paralyzing him.
Finally, the large brute with the wolf's head left, and the cell fell silent again. After an unknown amount of time, he slowly regained consciousness.
Lockhart struggled to his feet, deep in thought. "A manifestation of the most feared scenario? Or a mockery of the existence of life?" He quickly sifted through the memories in his mind, searching for anything that matched the effects of this Dark magical creature.
The pre-known information about the "magic cloak" greatly narrowed the scope. But it still couldn't provide a precise answer. Further observation and analysis were needed.
For now, he had to find a way out of here. It was then that he truly understood: Animagus transformation was an excellent means of escape.
But right now, let alone an Animagus form, he felt as if his body had become somewhat unfamiliar, as if something had been added. He looked at his hands, puzzled, wiggling his fingers and shoulders, but felt nothing special.
He just had a vague feeling that his magic felt different, unfamiliar, which caused him to lose contact with his Dark magical creature companion. However, his connection with the forest seemed to have grown much stronger; he inexplicably felt a greater affinity for it.
What was going on? He couldn't quite grasp the situation yet. Luckily, this wasn't actually happening to his physical body; everything before him was merely within the Dark magical creature's "phenomenon," a matter of mental perception.
"This won't stop me!"
Lockhart hadn't always possessed magic. He had a complete understanding of every step of feeling magic bloom in his body, from nothing to something, and he knew exactly how to adapt. However, it would take some time.
He couldn't afford to take it slow because he didn't know what situation his students were in.
He began to survey the cell. Well, it was utterly bare—besides a foul-smelling toilet, there wasn't even a bed, let alone a single straw. There was, however, a small vent window high up on the back wall.
His expression shifted. Moving quickly, he took two running steps and leaped up, clinging to the top of the vent window with all his might, straining his body to peer outside.
In an instant, a powerful current surged from the window again, washing over his body. Thump! He fell heavily to the ground, twitching as if having an epileptic fit. Even while twitching, he couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Excellent! Outside the window was an endless forest! The second electric shock seemed even stronger than the first; it took him a long time to recover. Calming himself and adjusting his state, he gazed out the vent window.
"Forest, forest, help me!"
This was the call of the Forest Child, and the forest quickly responded. A giant eagle spread its wings and glided across the sky, clutching a glowing green snake in its talons. As it swept past the window, the snake suddenly reared up and bit the eagle.
In pain, the eagle flung the snake away, and it landed precisely inside the cell. The snake quickly writhed and coiled on the ground, flicking its tongue at him.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss~"—"You cannot make another demand of me before you have repaid me."
Lockhart was startled, then suddenly realized. When he went to the Aragog's lair before, he had encountered Voldemort, and he had prayed to the forest for help, summoning the Car Lady to resolve the problem of being unable to break free from the plasma waves.
Before he could speak, the snake hissed again, forcing him to listen carefully. His Parseltongue was learned from Harry Potter's research; he didn't understand it perfectly and couldn't comprehend it as easily as human speech. He had to temporarily set aside his thoughts.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss~"—"Now it is your time to repay me."
No! I called you, but I called you for the wrong reason?
Lockhart almost lost his composure. I'm in a dire situation right now, and you choose this moment to demand repayment, do you? But what could he do? He couldn't refuse; otherwise, the forest wouldn't respond to him again.
"Speak," Lockhart said helplessly. "What do you need me to do?"
"Hiss, hiss, hiss~"
"This forest is cursed; you must find a way to break it."
Oh, for heaven's sake! Lockhart thought, The forest is getting involved in my fairy-tale adventure, is it? Is this really fun? He looked at the snake helplessly.
"I'm willing to try, but forest, are you sure you want me to do this? You need to understand, this is just a manifestation of a Dark magical creature's phenomenon. It's fake!"
"Hiss, hiss, hiss~"—"How do you determine what is real, and what is fake?"
Alright, alright, whatever you say it is. Arguing with the forest about these things was pointless. Lockhart sighed and nodded. "Fine, but you see my situation, don't you? I'm not asking for your help, but at least give me a hint, right?"
The snake was silent for a while, then raised its head and flicked its tongue again.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss~"—"You can wait until the full moon to act; then you will have greater power."
After giving this hint, the snake's raised neck fell to the ground like a rope, completely dead. After all, half of its head had already been scratched off by the eagle's sharp talons; it couldn't be deader.
"Full moon?" Lockhart blinked. That timing was too familiar. "Werewolf?" He clearly realized something, gasped, and looked down at his hands. "Werewolf venom? Have I become a werewolf?"
No! Wait!
Lockhart suddenly grasped the problem. For him, a Muggle eager to become a true wizard, being infected with werewolf venom and turning into a werewolf was indeed an extremely malicious curse—you've been expelled from wizarding society! Of course, if he didn't deeply know that he was only mentally immersed in the phenomenon, if he weren't a transmigrator who fundamentally accepted werewolves, he might actually despair.
"Interesting~"
His lips curved into a smile. He had more or less figured out what this Dark magical creature was! In modern Dark Arts defense, this creature's name should be the "Sack Creature," its form a loose magical cloak.
The name "Sack Creature" originated from a classic, somewhat twisted fairy tale about an isolated, socially anxious farmer who feared contact with others. So he cut holes in a sack, put himself inside, and whenever he met someone, he would retract his head and limbs into the sack, pretending to be an inconspicuous sack.
Then, one day, he was picked up by a thief. The farmer hid inside the sack, daring not to make a sound, and so he encountered all sorts of strange things along the way.
First, the thief was eaten by wild wolves in the forest, then a passing carriage, bumping along, thought he was lost cargo and picked him up. Inside the carriage, he overheard an affair, and then a rebellion led to the carriage's owner being killed by soldiers.
Finally, he was rescued from the sack. Those who rescued him mistook him for the carriage's owner, an earl, and from then on, the farmer and the earl's lover lived happily ever after.
Emmm...
Regardless of what this fairy tale was actually about, now that he knew what the Dark magical creature was, the corresponding solution was clear. The simplest way was to find a red robe, a vivid, bright red one with a hood. A strong and dazzling presence would instinctively terrify the "Sack Creature," or rather, the magic cloak, causing it to flee.
Lockhart quickly saw such a vibrant red robe. It was worn by a young girl. The skin beneath her hood was as fair as snow. She seemed to have no magic at all, and her voice sounded a little nervous, but she spoke firmly to the burly werewolf, "You let my father go, I'll take his place!"
The werewolf was clearly furious. "He's a thief, he stole many valuable things from me! Don't think I can't tell, the robe you're wearing is mine!"
The girl flinched, stepping back, then gritted her teeth and looked at him.
"But my grandmother told me that if I wear this red robe, you must agree to my request!"
"Yes, yes!" The werewolf angrily wagged his thick tail, pacing back and forth at the cell door.
"That wretched old witch, she certainly knows!"
Finally, the werewolf compromised. He led her to the cell, forcefully tore open the cell door, and cursed at Lockhart, "Get out! Even though you're a wretched thief, you have a good daughter!"
Lockhart blinked, looking at the girl in disbelief.
"Hermione?"
And it was a slightly older Hermione, as if she had aged a few years overnight.
"Father—" Hermione was saying, when she suddenly looked up at him, also stunned.
"Professor Lockhart?"