Outside Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley.
"Dad, watch out for his fist!"
"Dad, punch him! Hit his face!"
"Dad, be careful! He's going for a cheap shot!"
"That's it, Dad! Hit harder, just like before!"
...
Harry Potter held the stack of books Lockhart had just given him and looked in surprise at George and Fred beside him.
His father was fighting Draco's father—and these two weren't trying to stop the fight. On the contrary, they were egging it on. Harry was genuinely baffled.
Or rather, he hadn't quite come to his senses yet and didn't know if he should step in and try to stop the brawl.
His first impression of Lucius Malfoy was extremely negative. If he were strong enough, he might have punched the man himself.
From the very beginning, Lucius had been condescending and cruel.
He'd yanked Harry over, touched the scar on his forehead without permission, and even praised the Dark Lord who had killed his parents.
Harry's eyes flared with anger—he had the sudden urge to hex Lucius on the spot.
And it didn't stop there.
Lucius had insulted Hermione for being Muggle-born and mocked the Weasleys for being poor.
That was the final straw for Ron's father, Arthur Weasley, who lost his temper, and the two men began to scuffle.
Harry was a bit worried for Arthur, but watching Lucius get hit was incredibly satisfying—like eating ice cream on a scorching day.
"Well done, Uncle Arthur! Hit him harder, kick him a few more times—aim for the weak spot!"
"Yeah! Kick again!"
Harry stared at a certain spot between Lucius's legs, silently cheering.
Suddenly—
A familiar figure stepped out of Flourish and Blotts.
It was… Professor Lockhart!
At that moment, Lockhart looked at Lucius and Arthur wrestling like children and nearly burst out laughing.
Neither of them had any real combat experience.
It was just one punch, one kick, then another kick, then a sloppy punch—just like a schoolyard brawl.
Having integrated centuries of Thor's battle experience, Lockhart could easily take down two or three average S.H.I.E.L.D. agents purely through technique.
This scene was almost comical to him.
As for why they weren't using magic, Lockhart wasn't surprised.
In a public place like Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic strictly forbade spellcasting during physical altercations.
Whoever cast the first spell would be held responsible.
Lockhart glanced at the books scattered on the ground and noticed a black notebook among them.
Then—
He stepped into the middle of the scuffle.
Using Thor's refined battle instincts, he swiftly grabbed both men's wrists, twisted them behind their backs, and gave a light tug—
"Aaah! Ahh! Ow ow ow!"
"Lockhart, take it easy!"
"Ow! Ow! That hurts!"
Lockhart looked calmly at the two groaning men and said sternly, "Two respected pure-bloods, fighting at my book signing? Rather disgraceful, don't you think?"
"I don't recall offending either of you."
Hearing that and feeling the pain in their joints, Arthur and Lucius quickly cried out, "No, no! Lockhart, please—go easy on us!"
Lockhart slowly released their wrists and softened his tone. "As fathers, you should be setting an example."
"Just look at your children—they were cheering you on. Is that really appropriate?"
Arthur and Lucius glanced at their kids, whose faces were still lit with excitement, then glared at each other and scoffed.
Lucius, now thoroughly embarrassed, grabbed Draco by the arm and stormed off with a cold huff.
But—
"Filthy half-blood," he muttered under his breath.
Lockhart, with his keen hearing, caught the insult and narrowed his eyes, silently watching Lucius walk away.
"Apologies, Professor Lockhart. I'm truly sorry for disturbing your signing," Arthur said sincerely.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Lockhart smiled and replied, "It's quite alright, Mr. Weasley."
"As a professor, I just didn't think that kind of scene was a good example for the kids."
"That's why I stepped in. And if I caused you any pain in the process, I sincerely apologize."
"Here—take these."
With a wave of his wand, the scattered books rose into the air, stacked themselves neatly into two piles, and hovered in front of Arthur.
Lockhart raised an eyebrow at the worn-out books—especially since they were his older publications.
Seeing Arthur's embarrassed expression, Lockhart smiled. And before Arthur could say a word, he continued:
"Mr. Weasley, the fact that your family came to my signing today already shows your support."
"To make up for the rough handling earlier," he said, pulling seven pristine copies of his books from his bag, "please accept these as a gift."
"Ha! Then I won't refuse. Thank you, Professor Lockhart. My youngest daughter Ginny is a big fan—this will make her day."
Arthur's eyes lit up as he accepted the floating books.
Lockhart gave him a polite nod and turned to walk back into the shop.
Perhaps no one noticed—
But among the fallen books, one black notebook quietly vanished.
---
That night, at Lockhart's home.
Lockhart sat in his chair, his eyes fixed on the black notebook lying on his desk.
Or rather—
The Horcrux created by Voldemort.
Lockhart already had a plan for dealing with it.
This high-level dark magic artifact? He had no intention of touching its power yet.
It was created by a Dark Lord who rivaled Dumbledore—who knew what traps or curses it contained?
He'd study it once his strength had grown. For now, it was safest to seal it away.
That way, he could enjoy a peaceful year of teaching and studying at Hogwarts.
He wasn't the type to go chasing danger. His philosophy: eliminate threats before they bloom.
As for the book signing earlier—it had gone very well.
His plan had been a total success.
Except...
That muttered "half-blood" from Lucius had deeply irritated him.
Lockhart despised this rigid, backward, classist wizarding society.
The constant conflict between pure-bloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns frustrated him to no end.
All he wanted was to peacefully research and understand magic.
But Lucius's insult was a reminder—such peace was nearly impossible in this world.
Magical research required knowledge, Galleons, potions, ingredients—all of which were monopolized by the pure-blood elite.
For someone like him, a true seeker of magical truth, there was no place.
But that was fine.
Everything would change.
Yes, everything would change.
His ideal world was one of pure magical pursuit—where anyone could study, anyone could explore, and everyone could grow.
And it would all begin in two days, with his first meeting with Dumbledore.
He had prepared thoroughly for this moment.
Including—
Dumbledore's test.
Lockhart touched the deep blue pendant around his neck, eyes dark and resolute.