Last year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom always smelled faintly of stale mold, accompanied, of course, by an overpowering stench of garlic.
This year, however, they had moved to a new classroom, and the air was thick with the cloying, sickly-sweet scent of expensive perfume. The classroom was split into two levels, with a small loft on the upper floor serving as the professor's prep room (or "dressing room," as Casen called it).
The entire classroom had been transformed into Gilderoy Lockhart's personal exhibition hall. The walls were plastered with massive, life-sized portraits of himself. The Lockharts in the pictures were busy winking at the camera, adjusting their golden hair, or showing off their perfect profiles.
Julien leaned against the window, his fingertips subconsciously rubbing the wand hidden in his sleeve as his gaze fell upon the figure currently striking poses at the front of the room.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
"I read he was awarded the Order of Merlin, Third Class," Hermione said, her cheeks flushed an unnatural pink as she squeezed into the seat next to Julien, clutching a towering stack of books.
"I read all of his works over the summer! Gadding with Ghouls is absolutely brilliant! What a shame we're starting with his second book this year: Voyages with Vampires."
Casen, who had been shoved out of his seat, along with Rosier and Liriya in the row ahead, all shot Hermione disgruntled, side-long glares.
At Professor Lockhart's request, today's lesson was being held for all four Houses simultaneously. The official reason was that it "facilitated better demonstrations." As for what exactly he was going to demonstrate, no one had the faintest idea.
Julien sneakily popped a piece of beef jerky into his mouth and gave a vague grunt of agreement. He knew exactly what kind of fraud Lockhart was.
Just then, Ding!
A notification chimed within his Library: Memory magic fluctuation source detected. Generating new book: The Thousand Layers of the Obliviate Charm: From Memory Erasure to Personality Overwrite.
Oh? If he could actually learn some memory charms out of this, then Lockhart's existence as an NPC had at least some value.
"Excellent, excellent!" Lockhart stood before the class, flourishing a wand inlaid with turquoise—it looked more like a window display at a jewelry store than a magical tool.
"So many eager faces! It seems everyone is incredibly passionate about my class. But before we officially begin, let's start with a little pop quiz!"
Parchment rained down like snow.
Julien caught a test paper and scanned the questions:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday?
3. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's ideal gift?
...
Bloody hell! What kind of raging narcissist is this guy? Julien's mouth twitched.
He turned to look at Hermione, only to find her furiously scribbling away, an expression of almost religious devotion on her face.
Without looking up, Hermione muttered to herself, "I know this one! It's peace and harmony! He mentioned it in Trekking with Trolls! And this one is..."
Julien sighed, randomly circled a few answers, and sneakily cracked open his copy of Voyages with Vampires on his lap. It was the only second-year textbook he had bothered to bring.
This was a highly honed skill from his past life; he rarely got caught.
Perhaps by coincidence, he flipped right to a page with an illustration: a wizard—undoubtedly Gilderoy Lockhart—standing before a massive, inward-opening stone archway. Carved into the lintel was a line of Latin text, likely a place name: Transylvania - Bran Castle.
Transylvania?!
Wait, the map! The rubbing of The Sources of European Magic.
One of the marked locations was in central Romania, and the annotation next to it was that exact word: Transylvania.
Julien froze. Did this place hold some special significance, just like Starfall Cove?
He quickly flipped a few pages back and found another illustration, this one an oil painting.
Nestled among towering mountains, a black, ancient castle perched on the edge of a sheer cliff, its spires piercing through dark storm clouds. A winding river flowed far below. The perspective of the painting was looking up at the castle from that very river.
In the bottom right corner of the painting was a very faint, almost entirely faded signature: "Victor Paulus Krum, 1943".
Victor? Krum? He felt like he had heard that name somewhere before.
"Alright, time's up. Pens down, please." Lockhart swept his arm, and all the test papers flew back into his hands. At the same time, an Auto-Answer Quill began rapidly ticking and crossing.
"However, Mr. Black, while I certainly understand how utterly captivating my books are, last-minute cramming is never a good habit, hm?" Lockhart shot Julien a playful wink.
That thoroughly disgusted Julien. But Lockhart's performance wasn't over. He extended his right arm toward the class, striking a dashing pose.
In that split second, Julien spotted something on Lockhart's right wrist—a black mark: a crescent moon entwined with thorns!
"Ho ho! Miss Granger got every single question correct! She even knew that my ideal gift is harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples!"
Lockhart looked incredibly pleased with himself and decided to grace the class with more of his humor. "Though, of course, Miss Granger, I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky! Hahaha."
Hermione smiled and nodded in response, then turned to Julien. "His ideals are so noble, aren't they?"
Julien forced a stiff smile. "Yeah. Clearly."
"Right then, open your copies of Voyages with Vampires!" Lockhart flashed another blindingly white smile, his voice dripping with honey. "Today, we are going to learn how to deal with those elegant gentlemen who reside in ancient castles."
The rustle of turning pages echoed through the classroom. "I've read it three times," Hermione whispered to Julien. "The way he fought off the vampire coven in this book was absolutely brilliant. He used seven different shielding charms..."
Lockhart immediately launched into storyteller mode, guiding the class step-by-step through a thrilling, dramatic, and highly entertaining narrative.
Honestly, purely as a listener, Julien had to admit that Lockhart was a better storyteller than most web novel authors from his past life.
However, this was still a classroom, and storytime could never truly replace a textbook. Many of the young wizards—especially the Ravenclaws and Slytherins—still had their brains firmly switched on.
The low hum of whispering eventually broke Lockhart's rhythm. "Miss Greengrass, I noticed you've been chatting with your neighbor quite a bit. Do you have a question?"
"Just curious, Professor," Daphne Greengrass looked up, a meaningful smile on her face.
The Greengrass family was an old, pure-blood aristocratic family. Both Daphne and her sister Astoria were well-connected and highly knowledgeable about the world.
"Exactly where in Romania is the vampire castle you described in your book? I've studied the topography of the region, and my family has even taken me exploring in the Carpathian Mountains, but I've never heard of the place you mentioned."
Lockhart's smile froze for a fraction of a second. It was a momentary slip, so fast it almost seemed like an illusion, but Julien caught it. A flash of sharp wariness flickered in his grey-blue eyes, like a hunter realizing his prey was studying him right back.
"Oh, it's a... highly secretive location," Lockhart straightened up, subconsciously tugging at his cuffs. "Deep within the Carpathian Mountains. The exact coordinates are a secret, you understand. To prevent my more enthusiastic fans from attempting any reckless expeditions."
"Professor, can we do some practical work?" Seamus Finnigan, showcasing typical Gryffindor impatience, finally asked.
"Practical work? Absolutely! That is precisely what we are moving on to next," Lockhart eagerly seized the opportunity to change the subject, clapping his hands together. "Now, assuming you encounter a vampire, what is the very first thing you must do? Mr. Potter, let's hear from you."
"The Sunlight Charm? Silver weapons?" Harry guessed tentatively.
"No, no, no!" Lockhart shook his head theatrically. "It is—a smile! Remember, the one thing a vampire hates more than anything else is seeing someone more charming than they are!"
A scattering of nervous laughter drifted through the classroom. For a moment, no one was entirely sure if he was being serious or just trying to be funny.