activa-t Chapter 218 Some people are alive, but they've actually been gone for quite a while.
Chapter 218 Some people are alive, but they've actually been gone for quite a while.
Chapter 218 Some people are alive, but they've actually been gone for quite a while.
Lynch and Lockhart remained silent, with only the faint ripples of water beneath their feet spreading through the vast stillness.
Lynch showed no panic as if he had been sentenced to death; he simply looked at Lockhart quietly, as if processing his impassioned speech.
After a few seconds, Lynch spoke slowly, his voice low but like a knife piercing Lockhart's heart: "You've said so much about power, inheritance, and sacrifices, but I'm standing here now, and you haven't made any move to prepare an attack... I think I know what the power left behind by Slytherin is; you haven't truly obtained it yet, have you?"
He paused slightly, his dark eyes sharply locking onto Lockhart's uneasy gaze. "You're bluffing, aren't you?"
Lockhart's confident, cold smile froze instantly.
A hint of panic flashed across his eyes. Although he tried his best to maintain his composure, the fingers gripping the wand tightened unconsciously.
How did he find out?
My performance should have been perfect!
Damn it!
That damn Lynch came too fast!
I just arrived here with Potter, and I haven't even figured out the pattern on this statue yet, let alone found the key to triggering the Slytherin legacy—where the damn mechanism is hidden.
That damn diary didn't explain how to inherit Slytherin's legacy!
Just as I was frantically circling the base, his unhurried footsteps rang out outside the door like a death knell! Each tinkling sound sent a chill down my spine.
All those lavish arrangements and pretentious declarations were merely attempts to gain the upper hand, to overwhelm him with a show of force, and to buy him just a little time to prepare before launching a surprise attack!
But now, it's all over!
He's not buying it at all!
But that's okay, geniuses always have multiple preparations.
Fortunately—I still had one last card hidden.
Lockhart's beam of light abruptly turned towards Harry, who was slumped on the ground, his wand pointing in the same direction. He shouted, his voice trembling with fear, "Power? Perhaps. But that doesn't change the current situation, Lynch. Put down your wand, place it slowly on the ground, and then lie down! Don't try anything funny! I know your relationship is special; I heard this kid call you 'uncle'! If you don't want him to be forever lost in the labyrinth of memories, do as I say!"
Lynch looked at the tip of the wand pointing at Harry, but instead of being nervous, he gently spread his hands.
"A wand?" he repeated, a hint of oddness in his voice. "Lockhart, you've been at Hogwarts for quite some time now, when have you ever seen me use a wand?"
Lockhart paused for a moment, then, as if he'd heard a terrible joke, snapped, "Nonsense! Every wizard has a wand! Don't try to fool me!"
"Obviously, I'm an exception." Lynch's voice remained calm. "My wand—it's not here. It's somewhere else, temporarily taken away from me."
His gaze seemed to drift away for a fleeting moment, but quickly refocused, landing on Lockhart's face. "But don't worry. I'll find it."
These words, spoken casually, made Lockhart feel a strange unease.
He waved his wand irritably: "I don't care where your wand is moldy! Get down on the ground right now, hands behind your head! Surrender!"
"I'm sorry, I can't comply," Lin Qi replied crisply, without even changing his posture.
Lockhart could hardly believe his ears. He raised his voice, his wand almost poking Harry's temple: "Aren't you going to care if he lives or dies?!"
"Yes, I will." Lynch answered without hesitation, but his eyes were frighteningly calm. "But do you know why I was willing to talk to you so much from the moment I came in? About your Oblivion Spell, about your plans?"
Lockhart suddenly became alert, his unease growing rapidly. He stared intently at Lynch, trying to find any trace of spellcasting on the other's face: "You—what trick have you played?!"
Lin Qi tilted his head slightly, his gaze as if he were examining a pitiful and pathetic object.
"In this world, there are many people who look alive, breathing, talking, thinking—but in reality, they have long been dead."
His voice was deep and clear, each word striking Lockhart's heart: "Like you, Professor Lockhart."
"Ridiculous!" Lockhart scoffed, but his laughter was dry. He quickly touched his chest with his free hand, feeling his heart pounding inside, which reassured him slightly. "You think this psychological tactic will work on me?"
Lin Qi sighed softly, a sigh tinged with pity.
"Sometimes you're very clever, Lockhart, shrewd and calculating, knowing how to exploit people's weaknesses. But sometimes you're unbelievably foolish."
"I guess," Lynch's gaze slowly moved down, landing on the chest of Lockhart's magnificent robe, as if he could see through the fabric to the lining, "that diary that all of Hogwarts was searching for, after disappearing from Ginny Weasley's possession, ended up in your hands, right?"
Lockhart's facial muscles twitched, a flicker of surprise and disbelief crossing his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure: "So what if it is? It's just another minor problem that needs to be dealt with—"
"Trouble?" Lynch interrupted him, his tone tinged with almost helpless sarcasm. "Regarding the real dangers of that diary, those warnings about how it bewitches people and drains life force—I don't think you've listened to a single word, or rather, you're so arrogant that you believe only you can control it and profit from it?"
"What do you mean?" Lockhart demanded sharply, but a hint of uncertainty was already growing in his heart.
He instinctively reached inside his robe and touched the hard-covered notebook.
Lin Qi watched him take out his diary, shook his head, as if looking at a traveler walking towards a cliff without realizing it.
"What I mean is simple, Professor Lockhart. The diary's activity—conversing with you, revealing secrets, like a closest friend—is not without reward. Its activity requires fuel, and that fuel is the life force and soul of its holder. Every time you use it, every time you receive a little help from it," you are pushing yourself toward the edge of death without even realizing it, even feeling smug about it.
"It had been hiding it very well, and I hadn't noticed anything unusual about you. But just now, the moment I walked in and saw you, I knew it had completely drained you."
"Your life is over."
"You're talking nonsense!" Lockhart screamed, but his voice was already filled with panic.
He abruptly pulled the diary completely out of his pocket. The notebook that had once filled him with wisdom and power now felt strangely cold in his hand, as if it were sucking the warmth from his fingertips.
Recalling Lynch's earlier words, "Looks like he's alive, but he's actually dead," a chill instantly ran down his spine.
He flung the diary away as if he'd been burned. The black notebook arced through the air before landing with a thud on the smooth, damp ground a short distance away. The cover was soaked with water, and it lay there quietly, seemingly ordinary yet exuding an ominous aura.