Chapter 432

January 20, 1993, Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley was bustling with energy, its usual liveliness elevated to a fever pitch. Wizards and witches crowded the cobblestone streets, their focus not on the shops but on a new, awe-inspiring addition near Gringotts.

Next to the imposing wizarding bank stood a portal, unlike anything most had ever seen.

The base of the portal glowed with intricate red flame-like patterns, their designs radiating spatial magic. The fiery red lines stretched upward, forming the frame of the portal, through which an entirely different world could be glimpsed. Beyond the portal lay a verdant green field, with a straight road leading to an array of towering buildings.

This was the gateway to Lockhart's wizarding secret realm, unveiled for the grand opening ceremony of his school.

A young man in a regal purple-and-gold wizard robe stood beside the portal, a friendly smile on his face. Though youthful, he exuded a quiet strength. He was Hobbes Rom, one of Lockhart's students—a Squib who had become a wizard through the meditation method.

Many pure-blood wizards eyed him curiously, some even tempted to engage him in conversation. However, the excitement of the opening ceremony took precedence, and most chose to step through the portal without delay.

The portal itself drew more than a few stares. Wizards accustomed to using Floo powder or Portkeys marveled at its advanced craftsmanship.

Hobbes maintained his calm demeanor, only moving his wand when necessary—such as when a half-giant or unusually large wizard approached, requiring the portal to expand momentarily to accommodate them.

At the far end of the street, a commotion arose. Heads turned as the crowd parted to let a group of distinguished figures through.

"Dumbledore! That's Principal Dumbledore!" someone exclaimed.

"Look, there's Professor McGonagall—and Professor Snape too!"

The murmurs grew louder as the Hogwarts contingent made their way toward the portal.

Dumbledore, ever affable, greeted those around him with polite words and a warm smile. Walking alongside him were Professors McGonagall, Snape, and several other Hogwarts staff members.

"Albus," McGonagall said with mild exasperation, "are you certain Lockhart told you everything about this ceremony? He was so secretive about the details. We could've taken the Thestral carriage and saved some trouble."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Minerva, I assure you, I asked. Lockhart insisted on secrecy, promising a 'grand surprise.' I thought it best to indulge him. Besides," he added, his tone light, "we're not the only ones entering this way. Guests from the Ministry and other schools are doing the same."

Snape's expression darkened slightly, though he said nothing.

He recalled Lockhart's explanation during one of their conversations. The secrecy wasn't just about the nature of the secret realm; it was about control. Lockhart had deliberately designed the event to ensure that everyone—no matter their status—would enter through the same portal, effectively eliminating any grand entrances or displays of power.

Snape had his suspicions about Lockhart's motives. Was this about avoiding ostentation, or was there a deeper, more calculated reason?

For now, he kept his thoughts to himself.

When they reached the portal, Dumbledore turned his attention to Hobbes.

"Are you one of Lockhart's students?" Dumbledore asked kindly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Yes, Principal Dumbledore," Hobbes replied with a slight bow. "My name is Hobbes Rom."

Dumbledore smiled warmly but noted Hobbes's brief hesitation as he glanced at Snape.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, curious. "How long have you been studying under Lockhart, Mr. Rom? You seem… quite adept for someone so young."

Dumbledore added gently, "Were you a Squib before?"

Hobbes nodded, though his expression turned cautious. "Yes, Professor. But I've been training under Principal Lockhart for some time now. The meditation method has changed everything for me."

As Dumbledore observed him more closely, a wave of astonishment passed through him. In less than half a year, this former Squib had acquired magical abilities comparable to a sixth- or seventh-year Hogwarts student.

Even more remarkable, Hobbes's aura carried an unmistakable edge—a trace of battle experience.

If he faced a senior student from Hogwarts in a duel, Dumbledore thought, it's not certain who would prevail.

The implications were staggering. Could Lockhart have been training Squibs in secret long before introducing the meditation method?

Before Dumbledore could inquire further, Hobbes spoke, his tone apologetic. "I'm sorry, Principal Dumbledore, but our headmaster instructed us not to share certain details. You'll need to ask him directly."

Dumbledore's smile didn't falter, but his curiosity deepened. The boy had referred to Lockhart as "headmaster" with unmistakable pride.

Subtly, Dumbledore attempted to use Legilimency to glimpse Hobbes's thoughts.

But the moment he began, he encountered resistance. It wasn't traditional Occlumency—it was something entirely new. A defensive magic seemed embedded deep within Hobbes's mind, preventing external intrusion.

Fascinating—and unsettling.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, stepping back with a smile. "Let us not delay any further. Minerva, shall we?"

McGonagall gave a curt nod, and the group stepped through the portal.

Dumbledore stepped through the portal, his senses immediately struck by the shift in atmosphere. The temperature was perfect, the air fresh and invigorating. Even the magic that suffused the environment was notably richer than anything he'd encountered in Britain.

A lush green grassland stretched out before him, bordered by various biomes—forests, swamps, deserts, and even an ocean visible in the distance. The sheer diversity of the landscape was startling.

Where is this place? Dumbledore wondered. It couldn't be in the United Kingdom. Such an abundant and magical environment would certainly have been documented.

His gaze turned skyward, and his sharp eyes caught a peculiar detail: the sun. It wasn't natural—it was constructed, a brilliant feat of magic. His pupils narrowed as he processed the implications.

This is not part of the natural world.

Dumbledore unleashed his mental powers, allowing his magical senses to extend outward. What he discovered left him reeling. This space was sealed by an enormous barrier, reminiscent of the interior of an enchanted suitcase, yet vastly more advanced.

This isn't just an expansion charm—it's a fully functioning, self-contained world.

Snape, McGonagall, and the other professors were equally captivated. While they lacked Dumbledore's depth of insight, they too were struck by the environment's peculiarities.

Professor Flitwick voiced what many were thinking. "Minerva, have you ever seen anything like this? Forests, grasslands, deserts, swamps, and an ocean—all in one place?"

McGonagall shook her head. "No, Filius. This is beyond anything I've encountered. I suppose we'll have to ask Lockhart when we see him."

Dumbledore composed himself and began leading the group down the path toward the distant buildings. His mind churned with questions, but he kept them to himself.

The walk wasn't long, and soon the Hogwarts professors reached the gates of Lockhart's school.

A group of Lockhart's students stood at the entrance, ready to guide new arrivals to the ceremony. Each student radiated confidence and poise, answering questions from curious guests with practiced ease.

As they approached, a young woman stepped forward to greet them.

"Principal Dumbledore, professors," she said warmly, "welcome. I am Vera, a student of Teacher Lockhart. You can call me Vera."

McGonagall studied the girl with interest. Vera was young, about the age of a seventh-year student, but there was a maturity in her demeanor that belied her years.

"The tutor instructed me to personally escort you to your seats," Vera continued, smiling. "If you need anything, please let me know."

McGonagall returned the smile. "Thank you, Vera. We appreciate your help. Where is the ceremony being held?"

"In the central square, just beyond the main buildings," Vera replied, gesturing toward the path ahead. "Teacher Lockhart has reserved special seats for you at the front."

As Vera led the group, Dumbledore's sharp eyes scanned his surroundings. The layout of the school was vastly different from Hogwarts.

The campus sprawled far beyond the size of their own castle grounds, with buildings spread out across the landscape. Each structure had a distinct design and emanated a unique magical aura. Some were serene and inviting, others dark and foreboding.

Every building seemed to serve a specific purpose—teaching, combat training, divination, and more.

What struck Dumbledore most, however, was the atmosphere. The students here, from the youngest to the oldest, carried themselves differently. They were alert, almost on edge, their movements precise and purposeful.

This is not the relaxed, exploratory environment of Hogwarts, Dumbledore noted grimly. These students are being trained for something far more intense.

The group soon arrived at the central square.

The space resembled the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch but was significantly larger. A grassy field lay at its center, with a raised platform for speakers and performers. Surrounding the field were tiered seats, already filling with wizards and witches from around the world.

Vera gestured toward the front row. "Principal Dumbledore, professors, these are your seats. Teacher Lockhart has reserved them for you."

Nearby, Dumbledore recognized several familiar faces—Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic; Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons; and other prominent figures in the wizarding world.

"Thank you, Vera," Dumbledore said warmly. "You've been most kind."

Vera inclined her head. "It's my pleasure. If you'll excuse me, I must assist the other guests."

As Vera left, Dumbledore and the professors took their seats, their attention drawn to the growing crowd. Conversations buzzed around them, nearly all focused on Lockhart's mysterious school.

"This is extraordinary," Flitwick murmured, glancing around. "I had no idea Lockhart was capable of something on this scale."

"Neither did I," McGonagall admitted, her tone contemplative. "There's more to him than meets the eye."

Dumbledore said nothing, though his piercing blue eyes scanned the surroundings. He sensed layers of intention behind every detail of this event, each one meticulously crafted to make an impression.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The sound of fireworks erupted above the square, drawing everyone's attention skyward. Colorful explosions painted the sky, forming glowing words that hovered in midair:

Kamar-Taj Opening Ceremony

Lockhart's voice rang out, resonant and clear, amplified by magic to reach every corner of the square.

"I am Gilderoy Lockhart, and I welcome you all to the grand opening of Kamar-Taj."

The crowd erupted into applause, their anticipation palpable.

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