Hogwarts Bastard Professor

Harry and Draco were both on edge.

Following Professor Lockhart's instructions, they were hovering in midair on their broomsticks, gripping their wands tightly, ready for a fight.

They didn't know many spells yet. The one they were best at was the Disarming Charm, which they'd been practicing under Lockhart's guidance.

They were pretty good at it, too.

But that didn't make them feel much safer.

The castle was downright creepy. Sticky blood oozed from the cracks in the stone walls, the edges of picture frames, and even the steps of the staircase.

A chilling, eerie song echoed from some unknown corner, mingling with the rustling of snakes and crawly critters and the strange calls of ghostly birds. It was enough to make your skin crawl.

The adults' tension wasn't helping either.

Even powerful wizards like Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, along with that big-shot Mr. Eakert and his two henchmen, looked like they were bracing for a serious threat.

The only one who seemed unfazed was Professor Lockhart.

He was crouched on the ground, sticking out his tongue to lick the blood off the floor.

After one taste, he smacked his lips, clearly unsatisfied, and scooted over to a spot with even more blood. Brushing aside a few scorpions and spiders, he sucked at it eagerly.

"(⊙﹏⊙)!!!" Harry gaped.

"w(ﾟДﾟ)w!!!" Draco gasped.

Finally, Lockhart stood up, wiping the blood from his mouth with a slight smile. "Yup, just as I thought. It's a 'Wailing Wraith.'"

"Blood made by a 'Crypt Rot' would smell foul," he explained. "But a Wailing Wraith affects the earth itself. The red stuff it creates isn't blood—it's actually a kind of enchanted spring water, full of beneficial bacteria, good for living things."

Mr. Eakert, stunned, pointed at the red stains all over the castle. "You're saying *that's* spring water?"

"Exactly," Lockhart nodded. "If you're okay with letting this Wailing Wraith take over the castle, you could probably have someone collect this water. It's got a nice taste and does wonders for your skin and vitality. Could be worth a pretty penny."

"Oh…" Mr. Eakert looked uneasy. "Thanks for the suggestion, but no thanks. The Eakert family cares more about the castle we've lived in for generations than some quick cash."

Lockhart just smiled and didn't push it. He gestured to a translucent gray wolf padding through the bloody water toward them. "Look, it's found the Wailing Wraith."

He led the group after the wolf, explaining as they went.

"In principle, a Wailing Wraith doesn't actively harm people. The real danger comes from the earth around it, which summons protective forces to shield the wraith. Sometimes those are just snakes or creepy crawlies, which are easy enough to handle. Other times, it's trickier—like a fire-breathing dragon."

"These guardian summons happen every time a Wailing Wraith is disturbed," he continued. "There's a famous case in a Nordic cave where reckless adventurers and greedy treasure hunters kept bothering a wraith. Over time, the earth summoned so many guardians that the cave's basically a dragon lair now, home to dozens of fire dragons."

The group gasped, but Lockhart kept his perfect smile, reassuring them. "Relax. From what we've seen so far, it's clear there's no dragon here."

"Then what is it?" Harry asked, mustering his courage.

Honestly, he was starting to feel less scared.

Like Lockhart had taught them, he was trying to lean into the "storybook romance" of the adventure. A rush of excitement was building inside him, giving him a burst of bravery.

He was even getting a bit eager, gripping his wand, ready to jump into action. He hadn't done so great in his last duel with Draco, but he was determined to prove himself this time. He wanted to show that annoying Draco—and Snape, too—that he wasn't just some "brainless Potter" like they kept saying.

"What is it?" Lockhart paused, grinning slyly as he glanced back at Mr. Eakert, whose face was a mix of nerves and uncertainty. "Well, that depends on whether Mr. Eakert's been bringing any dangerous stuff into the castle lately."

All eyes turned to Mr. Eakert.

He pressed his lips together, clearly reluctant to spill the beans.

But Professor McGonagall fixed him with a stern look. "Young man, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't press you. But I've brought two students here, and I need to ensure their safety. You *must* tell the truth."

Mr. Eakert sighed, looking defeated. "It came from Mr. Malfoy. He heard Arthur Weasley was planning to use his influence to search his house, so he had to get rid of all his family's dangerous artifacts in a hurry."

*Mr. Malfoy*… Draco's dad, one of the leaders of the "pure-blood supremacy" faction among the Sacred Twenty-Eight families.

*Arthur Weasley*… Ron's dad, a low-key powerhouse in the Ministry of Magic with both legislative and enforcement authority.

In the wake of Voldemort's failed revolution, with most of his inner circle locked up in Azkaban, the influence of the pure-blood supremacists in the Ministry had plummeted. Meanwhile, pro-Muggle families like the Weasleys, Longbottoms, Prewetts, and Abbotts—also part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight—were at the height of their power.

Arthur Weasley's bold move to turn the Malfoy family upside down was a clear sign of the times.

The air grew tense and awkward.

Snape's lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Must be a feast for the pure-blood families right now, scrambling to snatch up the Malfoys' precious collection."

Mr. Eakert shrugged. "You're not wrong. It's all stuff you can't buy with money on a normal day."

These old pure-blood families had always envied the so-called "Sacred Twenty-Eight" and were thrilled to see them stumble or fall. They weren't about to miss the chance to carve up the Malfoys' assets.

But not every family had the chops to handle magical artifacts.

The Eakerts clearly didn't. Whatever they'd brought in had spiraled out of control, forcing them to abandon the castle that had been their family's pride for generations.

Without a magical castle, no house-elves would come seeking to serve them—a fact that other pure-bloods would look down on.

The Weasleys, living in their ramshackle Burrow, were a prime example. Despite Arthur's authority to barge into other families' homes, his kids—like Ron, who wasn't exactly a standout—still got sneered at by others. It wasn't just a wizarding world thing; the Muggle world worked the same way.

"A magical book, an old phonograph, and a Thestral," Mr. Eakert finally admitted under everyone's stares.

"A *Thestral*?!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, her face hardening as she glared at him. "That dangerous magical creature only eats human brains, Mr. Eakert. Tell me, how exactly have you been *feeding* it?!"

"Oh, Merlin's twisted beard!" Mr. Eakert looked panicked, waving his hands frantically. "No, no, I'd never do something that evil! The Thestral was wrapped up tight in golden spider silk. I checked with Mr. Malfoy—it's been sealed by some powerful wizard!"

Harry and Draco exchanged horrified looks. "Eats brains?"

They instinctively shuffled closer to Professor Lockhart, who gave them a sense of safety.

But Lockhart was deep in thought.

"An old phonograph?" he mused, snapping out of his reverie. "If I'm right, that's a modern magical invention. It uses the 'wonders of music' to contain some kind of phenomenon, trapping dark magical creatures inside an object for communication."

"The most famous example is the fairy tale about Aladdin's lamp," he said. "Putting a Wailing Wraith in a phonograph? That's a clever idea."

He looked up at Mr. Eakert. "If I'm not mistaken, the Wailing Wraith in your castle is likely a fully mature dark creature. That's the most dangerous stage."

"I'm guessing you didn't know how to use this artifact properly and just treated it like a quirky phonograph," he continued. "Didn't you ever feel a chill when you played music on it?"

Mr. Eakert was speechless, gaping like a fish.

What could he say? That every time his family proudly showed off the Malfoy artifacts at their banquets, everyone was too caught up in the excitement to notice any chills?

"A mature Wailing Wraith, plus a Thestral that's been sealed and starving for who-knows-how-long…" Lockhart's eyes narrowed. "This is gonna cost extra."

Negotiating the extra fee was easy enough. Mr. Eakert was desperate to get rid of the dangerous Malfoy artifacts and agreed to hand over the magical book and phonograph—both acquired at great cost—if Lockhart could resolve the crisis.

For Lockhart, it didn't seem too hard.

He waved his wand, summoning another gray wolf from a cloud of mist. It searched the castle and soon returned, carrying a rat in its mouth.

"Professor McGonagall, your understanding isn't quite accurate," Lockhart said. "Thestrals don't *have* to eat human brains. These creatures, whose venom can cast a Memory Charm, don't crave brains—they crave brains that hold human memories."

With an elegant flick of his wand, Lockhart tapped his temple, effortlessly drawing out a strand of chaotic, temporary thoughts. He placed it into the rat's mind.

"See?" he said, pointing to the squeaking, terrified rat in the wolf's mouth. "Now it's got human memories."

Stuffing human memories into an animal's brain wasn't exactly standard magic.

But for Lockhart, it was a piece of cake.

The group formed a circle, each person warily facing a different direction as the wolf, with the rat in its jaws, led the way deeper into the castle.

"When you use the Disarming Charm later," Lockhart said, walking beside Harry and Draco's broomsticks, "try to knock the Thestral toward the rat. It shouldn't be too hard—you've probably done something similar in Quidditch practice. Use what you've learned."

He'd set up a decoy, sure. But for a Thestral, a human brain full of memories would be far tastier than a rat's brain with just a pinch of human thoughts. It'd go for them first.

Harry and Draco nodded, their faces serious.

Finally, as they entered a dark corridor in the castle, a wild cat—drawn by the enchanted bacterial water—darted toward them, triggering everyone's reflexes. A dazzling blue light shot down from above, diving straight at Lockhart.

*Gotcha!* Lockhart thought. His brain, packed with countless memories, was clearly the Thestral's top pick for a meal.

Now he could only hope his two young assistants would step up.

And they did. All that training paid off.

The "Chosen One" lived up to his name.

The Thestral was fast, but not as fast as a Golden Snitch. And with its wings spread, it was way bigger than a Snitch.

With a furious yell—"*Expelliarmus!*"—the blue light was blasted away with a *whoosh*.

Starving as it was, the Thestral didn't fixate on Lockhart. It went for the easier prey first.

Like a gorgeous, eerie butterfly, it enveloped the wolf and the rat in its jaws.

In an instant, the magically weak wolf dissolved back into mist. The rat let out a piercing scream as the Thestral tore into its skull.

The Thestral's teeth were razor-sharp, able to rip through tough dragon hide or scales, let alone an ordinary rat.

With a sickening *crack*, it began slurping up the rat's brain, the sound echoing eerily in the dark corridor.

Lockhart held up a hand to stop Harry and Draco, who were itching to act. He drew another silvery strand of memory from his head, cradling it in his left palm as he slowly approached the Thestral.

"Squeak!" The Thestral lifted its bony, white head, letting out a sharp cry.

Lockhart curled his fingers, forming a small cage-like shape, as if to trap the memory back in his fist.

The Thestral didn't hesitate. It lunged at his hand.

As it got closer, its body shrank rapidly, from a wingspan of nearly five feet to something smaller than a bat.

It wrapped itself around the memory in his palm.

Lockhart gently pressed his fingers against the creature's eye sockets.

The Thestral struggled briefly, then went still after half a minute.

Lockhart let out a breath, pulling a small cloth bag from his pocket and slipping the creature inside. Seeing everyone's curious looks, he explained, "Cover a Thestral's eyes, and it falls asleep easily. After eating two sets of memories, it'll be out cold for a good long while."

He tucked the bag into his wizarding robe.

Mr. Eakert opened his mouth to say something but stopped under Snape's faintly mocking gaze.

That Thestral had cost a fortune to acquire!

But he knew, even with Lockhart's clear explanation, he couldn't replicate the feat of taming it. Knowing how was one thing; having the skill and guts was another.

Without the ability to handle it, keeping such a dangerous creature would only bring more trouble.

What could he do? He just followed the group as they moved on.

---read more inpatreon

ilham20