Harry Potter: Westeros's Plant Life

"One final question."

Adrian's expression suddenly turned serious.

"Professor Lockhart, since you claim you were never truly under control, I need you to explain something to me. Why did you allow the basilisk to continue attack those innocent students?"

The question struck Lockhart. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, his eyes widening as if Adrian had just revealed some truth that had been hidden from him.

'Yes!' his mind screamed in sudden clarity. 'Why indeed?'

The memories came flooding back. When the school year had resumed after the Christmas holidays, that first attack had indeed been orchestrated under Tom Riddle's direct influence. He had commanded the basilisk to petrify a student, using Lockhart's body as a channel.

But afterward—after he had supposedly broken free from Tom's control why had he continued to allow such actions?

"Why... why..." Lockhart began muttering under his breath like a broken mantra. His eyes, which had been focused on Adrian moments before, gradually became vacant and unfocused.

Adrian observed this psychological breakdown with growing alarm. The change in Lockhart's demeanor was too different to be just the result of uncomfortable self-reflection.

Something was wrong.

With swift, decisive movement, Adrian rose from his Devil's Snare chair. His wand was in his hand and pointed at Lockhart's chest before the man could even register the movement.

"What... what's wrong?" Lockhart became flustered as he noticed Adrian's sudden hostile posture. His eyes darted frantically between Adrian's face and the wand pointed toward him. "What did I do wrong?"

"Stop this charade, Tom," Adrian said coldly. "I know you're still lurking within him."

"What?" Lockhart's bafflement appeared entirely genuine. "What are you talking about, Professor Westeros? I... I don't understand."

Adrian observed Lockhart's face searching for any sign of deception. The man's confusion seemed authentic. He appeared to genuinely have no understanding of what Adrian was saying.

But that, Adrian realized, was precisely the point.

He could now confirm with near certainty that Voldemort's was inside Lockhart's body. But Voldemort's parasitism ran deeper than imagined—even Lockhart hadn't noticed.

Fortunately, Adrian had been preparing for precisely this scenario. The purification apple from his magical plantation had reached full maturity some time ago, and he currently carried several doses of the purification potion.

"I hope you still remember this, Tom," Adrian said reaching into his robes and took out a small vial filled with liquid and waved it in front of Lockhart.

Lockhart looked at the golden vial in confusion, his eyes showing pure bewilderment. "What is that supposed to be? Some new beauty potion?"

"You'll discover its true nature soon enough," Adrian replied with a slight smile. He removed the potions' stopper and moved the vial toward Lockhart's lips. "Drink it. All of it."

"Could you perhaps release these first?" Lockhart said. "At least allow my hands some freedom of movement?"

Adrian considered this request for a moment, then nodded curtly. With a subtle gesture, he commanded the Devil's Snare to withdraw its vines. Without a wand, Lockhart was no threat, so there was naturally no need to worry.

Lockhart tremblingly took the potion from Adrian's hand, sniffed it, and forced a strained smile. "Um... can I not drink this?"

"Absolutely not," Adrian cut him off decisively. His wand moved fractionally closer to Lockhart's throat. "Drink it, or I'll command the Devil's Snare to force it down your throat."

Lockhart glanced at the Devil's Snare swaying nearby and couldn't help but swallow. "Alright, alright."

He tremblingly raised the golden vial, about to drink it all in one gulp.

That was when everything changed.

Before the liquid could touch his lips, Lockhart's entire body began convulsing. His muscles contracted and released in rapid succession that sent him stumbling backward. The potion vial slipped from his spasming fingers, tumbling toward the stone floor.

Adrian responded instantly. His wand flicked floating gently back into his waiting palm before it could shatter against the ancient stones.

However, Lockhart's bizarre behavior was far from stopping.

He suddenly let out an inhuman scream, his entire body spasming as he collapsed to his knees—it was a truly chilling sight.

"No... no!" He cried out with desperate hysteria, reaching toward Adrian with one trembling hand while his body continued its convulsions. "Save me! Please, you have to save me!"

Adrian watched this scene silently.

Soon, Lockhart quieted down. His body suddenly went rigid, his expression froze instantly, and his head lowered.

When he finally raised his head again, the eyes that met Adrian's gaze were completely transformed. Gone was the panic, the confusion, the desperate fear that had been Lockhart's final moments of consciousness.

Instead, those eyes now held a chilling calmness.

"What a thoroughly... unpleasant experience," the thing wearing Lockhart's face observed in a voice that bore no resemblance to his usual theatrical tones.

He rose from the floor as if the earlier convulsions had been nothing more than a usual Lockhart performance. His movements possessed an elegance that Lockhart had never displayed and he reached up to straighten his disheveled collar.

"At last, we meet face to face," Adrian said softly. "Tom Riddle."

In fact, Adrian was himself somewhat shaken by the transformation he had just witnessed. He had indeed never intended to kill Lockhart on the spot. But if Voldemort had somehow managed to escape during the confusion, if he had slipped away to wreak havoc elsewhere in the castle, the consequences could have been catastrophic.

Fortunately, Lockhart's behavior had ultimately revealed some signs of presence of Voldemort.

Lockhart had been far too arrogant in his assumptions, too confident in his belief that he had successfully plundered Voldemort's memories without consequence. What he had failed to understand was that those memories came with a price that Voldemort had been steadily absorbing his life force, using the diary fragments as a channel to transfer his essence into Lockhart's body.

As Adrian had said, Voldemort's methods were complex and required constant vigilance to detect. Lockhart had been so intoxicated by his new power that he had completely failed to notice his body was no longer entirely his own.

Returning his attention to the present situation, Adrian observed the transformed figure in front of him.

Tom certainly wouldn't have allowed his host to consume the purification potion—he had witnessed the substance's effects of this potion before.

So, he could only emerge early and forcibly take control of Lockhart.

"Sir," Tom asked with confusion, "could you tell me why you're so obsessed with me?"

Adrian smiled and shook his head. "Because you are Voldemort."

"That's it?" Tom seemed somewhat incredulous. "Let me guess—you and my main soul must have some irreconcilable hatred, don't you?"

Through his possession of Lockhart's body, he had gained access to considerable information about the current state of the wizarding world. Naturally, he had learned about the various things done by his future self.

"Ah, that's about right."

Adrian took two steps forward, pointing his wand at Tom. "It's game over, Tom. There's nowhere left for you to hide."

To Adrian, Voldemort was very important.

A powerful soul was a key component for awakening his sister.

Currently, only Voldemort's soul met Adrian's exacting requirements. Other dark wizards typically had insufficient soul power, and Adrian had no moral reservations about using the Dark Lord's soul.

Faced with Adrian's unwavering hostility, Tom's expression immediately darkened, completely losing his initial composure. He understood that in his current weakened state, direct confrontation with the wizard before him would be suicidal.

Initially, he had hoped to negotiate, to convince Adrian that sparing him would be more beneficial than destroying him. Those hopes now appeared to be nothing more than wishful thinking.

However, he still had one final option.

By abandoning this body, he could escape as a spirit. But without a host body, his existence would become increasingly fragile, and he would eventually fade into nothingness unless he could find another suitable vessel.

But Adrian had no intention of allowing such an escape.

The faster he acted, the fewer variables would complicate the situation. Decisive action was needed.

Without warning, Adrian reached deep into his robes and produced a silver-gray powder, which he scattered into the air with a sweeping gesture.

This was wood powder ground from a mutated tree that had spatial properties—the same wood from which Adrian had crafted his portal.

The function of this wood powder was simple—teleportation.

As for their destination, Adrian had already predetermined their next stop: his private magical plantation.

The scattered powder began to flicker with strange silver light.

Tom's pupils contracted as he recognized the signs of magic being performed. He realized something was wrong, but it was already too late to prevent it.

Accompanied by a sensation of being pulled through space itself, both figures vanished from the spot in an instant, leaving behind only swirling motes of silver light that gradually faded into nothingness.

The basement returned to its silence once again.

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