HP: Fairy Tale Wizard - 161

Chapter 161: Lockhart at the Bottom of the Thames

"So you saw a Dark wizard who wraps Fiendfyre around himself and apparently possesses a unique magic similar to Apparition?"

Looking at Kingsley before him, breathing heavily and urgently contacting him through the still-open Phoenix Society channels, Dumbledore felt a headache forming.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. He emanated a very strong sense of danger. And I suspect he's insane, or at minimum has serious mental problems."

"Wait a moment, Kingsley. You only saw him use Fiendfyre. You didn't witness him committing murder or arson, did you? Why are you so hasty in concluding he's a Dark wizard? After all, even the young man he offended didn't sustain any injuries?"

"That's precisely what I wanted to say, Professor Dumbledore."

Kingsley seemed to have been waiting for this exact question, excitement flushing his dark skin.

"Professor Dumbledore, a wizard capable of studying Fiendfyre to the point of casually extinguishing and igniting it, altering its form, even manifesting it on his body surface without harming himself. Perhaps such a wizard cannot be directly labeled Dark, but could he possibly be a person with a humble attitude?"

"Under the influence of such advanced Dark Magic on one's emotions, quick temper, arrogance, disregard for life are the bare minimum. Yet he didn't inflict any punishment on someone who insulted him verbally. That's the most terrifying part. He's either completely lost his sanity, or he's completely focused on his evil plans."

Dumbledore nodded. Kingsley wasn't entirely wrong about this point. Though Dumbledore's own proficiency with Fiendfyre wasn't low, he'd learned it directly from Grindelwald, who was the one who studied it deeply. And his personality did match Kingsley's assessment.

So, this wizard could be marked as a potentially Dark wizard.

In fact, Dark wizards like Voldemort, with nothing but killing on their minds, were easiest to handle. Of course, he meant the increasingly foolish Voldemort from the late war years.

At that time, he truly reached the peak of his magic, but he abandoned wisdom. His wisdom seemed to gradually fade along with the name "Tom Riddle." When he first rose to power, gathering pure-blood families under his wings, he still allowed Dumbledore to see a shadow of his former self.

Later, increasingly disappointing. Nothing more than a tyrant ruling through death and terror.

So different from...

"Professor Dumbledore? When are you planning to apprehend him and bring him to justice?"

Pulled from his reverie, Dumbledore stroked his beard.

Young people truly lack perception.

"Do you know where he went? By this hour, he couldn't have stayed in that small alley the entire time, could he?"

The "Dark wizard" at the center of their conversation was currently...

"Going to die, chirp! Going to die, chirp."

"Don't be so fragile. Just endure a bit more. Bubble-Head Charm is difficult to manipulate, especially adjusting it to your size."

Sterling carefully waved his wand. A thin transparent membrane continuously enlarged and shrank, periodically pressing tightly against Robin's entire head, cutting off its air supply.

"Sterling, Sterling, give me some air, chirp!"

"Does alchemical life require oxygen?"

"Alchemical life is still life, chirp! Without oxygen involved, the Philosopher's Stone's energy conversion can't meet my consumption, causing dormancy, chirp!"

"Alright. By the way, you should call me Andersen now."

Sterling made final adjustments, satisfied with the bubble fitting perfectly over Robin's small head, looking just like a diving helmet.

Then he cast one on himself with a wave.

"We're really going underwater, chirp? Why, chirp?"

Robin unhappily eyed the seemingly calm river water below, seemingly foreseeing its feathers wetly matted to its body.

"I saw the clues are hidden in there."

Sterling began doing warm-up exercises, preparing for the underwater exploration.

The Thames water was quite cold.

As for why Sterling was so certain clues lay in the Thames, it came from a broken half-thread he'd picked up in the alley.

This was a special story, not from the victim, nor from the perpetrator, but from the murder weapon itself. That clock hand.

From its ability to birth stories, it was also a magical artifact. From this story, Sterling saw a vast riverbed upon which countless clock hands stood, point-down, all bronze-colored, corroded by long exposure to river water into rust-spotted surfaces. Each one pointed downward as if nailing something down.

Judging from the depth and width of this fleeting glimpse of the river, in London, Sterling couldn't imagine any option besides the Thames.

"Might we get pulled into a ship's propeller and die, chirp?"

Robin observed the vessels passing on the river surface for a while, then suddenly made an observation from an unusual angle.

"Mr. Nicolas even added this sort of Muggle knowledge to you?"

Sterling looked at it unexpectedly, while it stood huffily with both wings on its hips.

"I've said it already. Mr. Nicolas Flamel is dedicated to fusing creations from the Muggle world with alchemical creations from the magical world, chirp!"

"Oh, so do you have any successful fusions now?"

"Not in my knowledge database, chirp. Alchemist creations are very important secrets. Can't be casually told to others, chirp!"

Sterling nodded. That was certainly accurate.

Just like Professor Vitam said, what alchemists gambled on was intelligence.

Vitam, knowing in advance that Voldemort used a mummy curse, allowed her to shoot him several times with scarab beetles, and, by Sterling's performance, could devise tactics to put him at a disadvantage.

Conversely, if Sterling had known in advance about her mercury creation, learned about earlier attacks on the mind, or curses, he could easily subdue her.

Alchemists' positional warfare and premeditated targeted combat were formidable. But sudden situations and being targeted...

"Anyway, we shouldn't get too close to the ship. We need to find things on the river bottom. Those propellers are irrelevant to us. Besides, I remember your body is quite hard, right?"

"That's right, chirp! My body is very difficult for many spells to destroy, chirp!"

"I see." Sterling smiled.

Remembered. If some magic was too slow to block in the future, he'd toss Robin out.

After all, Robin's core was indestructible, and all information was stored in the core. Not for nothing was Mr. Nicolas's designated companion. Too considerate, Mr. Nicolas.

"Alright, let's prepare to dive. You can probably swim by flapping your wings?"

Robin looked at him with an expression like seeing the devil.

"How do you plan to swim, chirp?"

Sterling raised his hand, transforming it into a fish fin before Robin's eyes.

Human Transfiguration, kid.

"I can't transfigure you. Alchemical creation transfiguration difficulty is too high. Other things are manageable, but you have the Philosopher's Stone built in. To completely suppress a Philosopher's Stone's power in transfiguring you, I can't manage that currently."

Robin fell silent. After a while, its belly opened, extending a small propeller from inside.

"Cool!" Sterling's eyes brightened.

"You have this ability. No, you're an alchemical creation. Having this sort of form-changing ability is completely normal. Why not demonstrate it earlier?"

If he'd known earlier, he wouldn't have left it in Utopia.

"This is a new function Mr. Nicolas Flamel added before I left Hogwarts, chirp."

Robin panted; seemingly, the expenditure wasn't insignificant.

"You rest a while? Or should we go directly?"

"Go directly, chirp! You're definitely not as fast as me, chirp!"

Sterling raised an eyebrow, diving headfirst into the Thames. Robin didn't concede, flying high then folding its wings, shooting in like an arrow.

The propeller began rotating the moment it contacted water, quickly helping Robin adjust direction. Opening its eyes underwater, the first thing it saw was Sterling, complete and intact.

Robin tilted its head confusedly.

Wasn't Human Transfiguration supposed to be used?

Yet suddenly a quill appeared in Sterling's hand. In the water, he wrote a single word. The next moment, a brilliant golden light flashed, and a massive, round object emerged from the glow. It possessed a steel exterior and glass eyes. Behind it, two enormous propellers waited quietly, seemingly anticipating the roar of ignition.

"Submarine, chirp! Cheating! It's cheating, chirp!"

Robin protested heartbrokenly, while Sterling, already seated inside the submarine, kicked his legs triumphantly.

He made a scissors gesture at Robin.

Without Robin's propeller and "muggle world creations," he genuinely hadn't thought to manifest a submarine for fun.

Although he didn't completely understand the principles submarines should operate on or what the interior looked like, it didn't matter. In the Muggle world, I had to obey physics. Now, in the magical world, should I still obey physics? Then I wasted learning magic.

Everything could be left to almighty magic.

Sterling only needed to know something called "submarine" existed, that this thing could move quickly underwater, and what it looked like. Then he wanted to manifest this thing.

That was sufficient.

Just like now, his submarine was essentially just a layer of iron skin wrapping a small room, containing sofas and a small table, with a steering wheel positioned below the front glass window, dragging two propellers behind.

Circuit? None.

Mechanical structure? None.

But the moment he moved the steering wheel, this metal lump moved and functioned identically to submarines in his understanding.

Magic. Isn't it wonderful?

"Robin, do you still want to race who's faster?"

"Open the door, chirp! I concede, chirp!"

Moments later, Robin sat wrapped in a manifested small blanket, trembling.

"Even summer river water is this cold."

Sterling himself didn't feel it. In fact, since discovering he was a Nightmare, he'd grown insensitive to temperatures not involving magic.

Robin glared at him wordlessly.

Sterling shrugged, piloting the submarine to explore the river bottom.

The Thames in central London lacked abundant life, probably due to pollution and traffic. Sterling hadn't seen much aquatic flora or fauna during the journey.

Above them, shadows cast by passing ships moved overhead.

"Robin, help me look too. Find a spot with a particularly black riverbed."

Sterling had never seen the Thames riverbed before. When he actually saw it, he immediately noticed something special in the murder weapon's story.

The riverbed where those needles were embedded was very black. Abnormally black, nothing like naturally formed material. Sensually, it resembled the black liquid flowing from the corpse he'd seen at his door this morning.

Except it was solid, and thinking about it, it seemed mismatched with the riverbed's nature. It appeared very hard, not soft.

These characteristics made Sterling's search much more convenient.

He installed a searchlight and two viewing mirrors on the submarine, one for Robin, one for himself.

With a searchlight, the riverbed's color was more conspicuous than anything.

Robin was reluctant verbally but still pressed its eyes to the viewfinder, looking carefully. After a long while, it suddenly flapped its wings.

"Found it?"

"No, no, chirp. Someone here, chirp!"

"Someone?"

Sterling quickly looked in the direction where Robin was looking. Indeed, a clearly humanoid figure was slowly sinking. His hair color was rather striking, a vivid golden hue.

This was why they noticed him so quickly.

"We need to hurry and rescue him. Hopefully, he's not dead yet."

The propellers worked at full capacity. In a blink, the submarine shot out like an arrow. Approaching the person, Robin opened the cabin door while Sterling used Summoning Charm to pull at his robes, dragging him inside.

"Seems a bit familiar, chirp."

"Indeed."

Sterling used Hot Air Charm to dry the water from his body. His robes were remarkably vivid, a deep violet color, with a blue inner lining. Combined with his hair, this outfit was absolutely eye-catching in any crowd.

Besides, his appearance was quite handsome.

"Is he dead, chirp?"

"No, he seems to be a wizard too."

Sterling sensed magic within him. Not very strong, but at normal adult wizard standards. However, his situation was odd.

His magical reserves were those of an adult, but his magical output ability seemed degraded.

However, it is not necessary to worry about that at the moment. Since he's also a wizard, with wizards' vigorous life force, merely drifting on the river bottom for a while wouldn't kill him.

Besides, with magic, potions could be consumed.

Sterling pulled out a bottle of Calming Draught from his pack. He knew this didn't match the symptoms, but he'd only brought this finished potion. He couldn't exactly brew potions in a tiny submarine with an open flame.

Sterling poured the potion into his mouth. Suddenly, a thought flashed across his mind. This person, he'd seen before. On his first trip to Diagon Alley, in Flourish and Blotts.

Gilderoy Lockhart. The famous author known throughout the magical world.