Blake had just returned to Hogwarts not long ago when Lockhart, having heard the news, sought him out. He dragged Blake to a secluded corner, his expression filled with unease.
"Blake... you... did you hurt me?" Lockhart's voice wavered as he spoke, eyes darting around nervously.
Blake blinked, tilting his head slightly. "I hurt you? How did I do that?"
"The article in the Daily Prophet... I..." Lockhart hesitated, clearly flustered.
Blake met his gaze with innocent eyes. "That article was written by Rita Skeeter. Your manuscript was rejected by the Daily Prophet. What does that have to do with me?"
"But... but how did she find out? That woman... she knew my secret!" Lockhart's panic was evident now.
Blake calmly took a step back. "She knew your secret? So what the newspaper said wasn't just a rumor—it's the truth? Huh..."
Lockhart frantically waved his hands. "No! No! I mean... that photo! The photo of the victim that was published in the Daily Prophet! The one named Ackerman Allen Guy!"
Blake raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Who is he?"
"You... you don't know who he is?" Lockhart's face paled with shock.
Blake smirked. "If I don't know who he is, then why do you assume I know about you?"
Lockhart's expression shifted as he processed Blake's words. "In other words, he too...?" A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Blake, you really are something..."
"Actually, I only knew two things about you," Blake continued, watching Lockhart closely. "But now, I know a third."
Lockhart's eyes darkened. Blake's words implied far more than what was actually said.
"God knows how many people you've done this to," Blake murmured, feigning nonchalance.
Lockhart stiffened. He realized that Blake's claim of having "caught him" might not have been as comprehensive as he had initially thought. Not everyone knew the full extent of his misdeeds.
"Then... when you said you knew everything I did..." Lockhart trailed off.
Blake shrugged. "I assumed you only did two things. I didn't expect you to have so many skeletons in your closet."
Lockhart studied him, suspicion lingering in his eyes. "So... you really weren't the one who told Rita?"
"Of course not. What would I gain from exposing you?" Blake asked before grinning slyly. "Besides, as long as I hold this secret over you, I can get plenty of benefits in the future. Why would I kill the goose that lays golden eggs?"
Lockhart's shoulders relaxed slightly, convinced that Blake had no reason to betray him—yet.
Still, the thought of being blackmailed in the future filled him with rage. "Blake, you... don't go too far!"
Blake sneered. "Too far? I don't know... is it too far for a man who steals others' stories, wipes their memories, and takes all the credit?"
Lockhart was rendered speechless. His face twitched as he struggled to contain his anger.
After a long silence, he spoke in a trembling voice. "I... I'm sorry. It was my fault. Blake, please, don't tell anyone. I... I'll give you a sum of Galleons every month..."
Blake's eyes gleamed with interest. "I bet you're thinking about using your Obliviate charm on me the moment I turn my back, aren't you?"
Lockhart flinched, panic flashing across his face. "N-no! Of course not! Blake, you've misunderstood me..."
Blake stepped forward, and Lockhart instinctively took a step back. "Oh? If not now, then maybe later? Maybe when I least expect it? You'd point your wand at me and erase everything, wouldn't you?"
"No... I wouldn't do that! You have to believe me!" Lockhart pleaded desperately.
Blake smirked. "Dumbledore has always suspected you, Lockhart. You know that, don't you?"
Lockhart quickly nodded.
Blake continued, "So, do you really think you can get away with using the Obliviate charm on me? You know my relationship with him. If anything happens to me, what do you think he'll do to you?"
Lockhart trembled as he realized how deep a pit he had dug for himself.
"People like Dumbledore may seem noble," Blake added in a whisper, "but cross the line, and you'll see just how ruthless they can be."
Lockhart's hands shook, and his wand slipped from his sleeve, clattering to the ground.
Meanwhile, in Lovegood's yard, Luna held a large handful of fresh leaves in front of the Bent-Horned Snorlax. The creature lay contentedly on the ground, happily munching away.
After a day of bonding, Luna had grown quite fond of it. It especially liked fresh leaves, which were scarce in the middle of winter. Fortunately, Blake had solved that problem by opening a dimensional door and retrieving them from elsewhere.
Not far away, Mr. Lovegood was adjusting his camera, eager to capture a picture of the creature he had searched for years.
He could barely contain his excitement. He wanted to publish another issue of The Quibbler immediately!
A shimmering portal appeared nearby, and Blake stepped through, followed by none other than Newt Scamander.
Newt looked much more energetic now, thanks to Blake's potions and the fact that his son had returned to help him. Even more magizoologists had arrived on Newt's island after hearing about his planned zoo, lightening his workload.
Blake gestured toward the Snorlax. "That's the Bent-Horned Snorlax."
Newt's eyes widened. "This... this creature actually exists?"
He had read about it in The Quibbler, though Lovegood wasn't the first to propose its existence. It had long been a rumor, but Newt had dismissed it as a myth after an unsuccessful expedition to Sweden.
But now, seeing it before his very eyes, his skepticism crumbled.
Newt carefully examined the Snorlax, running through his mental checklist. His final conclusion? This was an entirely undiscovered species.
"Once Mr. Lovegood gets his photos, we'll take it to the zoo," Blake said.
Luna looked a little sad but knew she wouldn't have time to care for it once school resumed. Her father, always absorbed in his work, wouldn't be able to either.
Newt beamed. "Looks like I'll have to update Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!"
The camera flashed, but the Snorlax only blinked lazily and continued eating. Lovegood sighed in relief. He had worried that the flash might scare it away, but the creature remained docile—thanks to Blake's influence.
That night, the Lovegoods' printing press worked overtime, churning out thousands of copies of The Quibbler. Lovegood, who had never printed such a high volume, was visibly anxious.
"Ten thousand copies… can we really sell all of these?" he asked nervously.
Blake chuckled. "Sell? Oh, no."
"What?!" Lovegood was dumbfounded. "If we can't sell them, won't we lose money?"
Blake smirked. "We're not selling them. We're giving them away."
Lovegood gaped. "Giving them away?!"
"It's an investment," Blake assured him. "Trust me."
Lovegood hesitated, but Luna beamed at Blake. "I believe in you! Dad, let's do it."
Seeing his daughter's enthusiasm, Lovegood sighed. "Alright... I trust you."
As Luna flashed another bright smile at Blake, Lovegood couldn't help but feel uneasy...
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