HP: A Magical Journey

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A/N: This the start of the two-part CLIMAX of the [COLORS ARC].

– [Climax Part 1: Descent into Madness] –

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The day after Quinn went into the Chamber of Secret and killed the first Tom Riddle/Voldemort’s Horcrux, Quinn was sitting in his office, cleaning his tools and other things in his office.

Diary-Horcrux of the sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle was destroyed when Quinn stabbed it with Basilisk venom while making small talk with the soul-split tied into the Horcrux. From that entire ordeal, Quinn took his payment for doing the job. The fee was in the form of liters of Basilisk venom and a dozen fangs from the Basilisk.

Last night, he also made sure that the four students it out of the Chamber of Secrets by checking their location status on Recon. And as he expected, three out of the four people were in the hospital wing. The three being petrified Ivy Potter, Basilisk-bit Harry Potter, and Horcrux-possessed Terence Higgs.

Ronald Weasley, who was untouched from the Chamber of Secrets, was back in the Gryffindor dorm, sleeping at night in his own dorm bed.

Quinn, who was the invisible participant, was able to enter and exit the Chamber of Secrets without being detected. Reaped some benefits and slew a part of the dark Lord Voldemort. There was nothing in the entire ordeal that was detrimental to Quinn.

The owner of the A.I.D consultation service sat in his workshop, doing spring cleaning of his various tools and utensils in the workshop. It was a good day, followed by a fruitful day.

As Quinn worked away in silence, there was a knock on his door, followed by the door chime ringing with the door opening.

Quinn set down equipment in his hand on the table and walked to the office to meet the client. Waiting for him in the office was Gilderoy Lockhart, Hogwarts’ current Defense Against Dark Arts professor.

“Ah, good afternoon, professor,” Quinn greeted as he sat behind the table and gestured Lockhart to take a seat. “How may I help you, professor?”

To Quinn, Lockhart was a cash cow he had milked throughout the year, and if that cash cow walked to his doorstep, he won’t reject it and welcome it in pleasantly because of its services. Plus, Lockhart had signed an all-year pass to the Restricted Section of the Library, so Lockhart, who Quinn previously considered as an annoying bug, was now his golden egg-laying goose.

“Quinn, just the student I was hoping to see,” said Lockhart, his every motion brimming with theatrics. He sat down and put on that blinding, million-watt smile. “I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss with you.”

“Of course, professor, do tell,” smiled Quinn, being polite to the man who had bought him close to his goal of filling a tub with sickles. The man had single-handedly given Quinn the asset, which allowed Quinn to complete ninety percent of his aim. According to his estimates, he would reach the target by the end of the school year.

“Quinn, I want to talk to you about the fan club,” said Lockhart, opening the conversation.

“Professor, I am sure that you would be able to gain more by talking to the managers of your club,” Quinn put on an apologetic smile. “I am not involved in the daily activities of the fan club.”

“I am not talking about the club,” Lockhart shook his head and explained. “I am talking about the merchandise sold in the club.”

Quinn’s eyes sparkled as he clapped his hands in excitement. “Professor, do you have a new product idea,” Quinn took out a sheet of paper and uncapped his pen, ready to take notes. “Do tell.” He wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass by.

“Yes, I am talking about the products you sell. But I am not here to tell you about a new product.”

Quinn’s shoulders slumped as he capped his pen and put it down on the table. His initial excitement, deflating in an instant.

“So, what is it do you want to talk about, professor.”

Lockhart cleared his throat and spoke. “Those merchandises that you have been selling through the club are all based on me.” Lockhart puffed his chest and bragged. “Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming-Smile Award.”

“So, it is normal that you should divide the profits with me,” Lockharts’ voice was filled with confidence. He spoke like the thing he was saying was obvious. “How about we spit up the profits ninety-to-ten? Of course, ninety to me and ten to you.”

Lockhart looked down on Quinn as he spoke, “Your products only sold because of my reputation. Without me, no one would buy things from a child.” Lockhart looked at Quinn as an easy-to-push-around child who would buckle under his words.

Quinn tilted his head in confusion, putting on an expression of confusion. All the previous politeness from him draining from his face and eyes.

“What are you talking about, professor?” Quinn opened a drawer on his table and took out a sheet of parchment. “This is not what we discussed.”

Quinn slid the parchment towards Lockhart so that he could read it.

“This document clearly states that you relinquish all earnings of my sales. The profits from anything I sell will go to me and not to you.”

Lockharts’ eyes popped when he saw the signature on the page while Quinn talked.

“T-This!” stuttered Lockhart as he looked up from the document. “I have no recollection of this. I don’t remember signing this.”

“I don’t know what to say, professor,” said Quinn. Putting on an oblivious expression. “You were the one to sign it; it is your sign. You can even have it checked for magic forgery.”

“With this document, you have no right to ask me for even a single knut of what I made from selling the products even though they are based on you,” Quinn intertwined his fingers and finished, “Sorry, professor, but I can’t help you in this matter. You are already signed over the rights to me.”

It stunned Lockhart into silence, which was a lot to say because the man rarely stopped talking. He just kept staring at the document in front of him.

“… Does anyone else know about this,” asked Lockhart, staring at the document, “And, do you have a copy of this? I want one so that I have a copy.”

“This is a private venture, professor. I, alone, handle the production and supply of the merchandise,” Quinn took the document which Lockhart placed on the table and said. “This is the original. I will make a permanent copy and bring it out to you just in a minute.”

Lockharts’ eyes shined as he immediately took out his wand and pointed it at Quinn. “Then it is settled. I will do you a favor and erase the memory of this document from your mind, and then you will give me the money you made from the sales. Previously, I was going to give you a ten percent share, but now, I am going to cut that in half, and you will only get five percent.”

Lockhart loudly laughed as he watched Quinn, “You might not know this, but the Memory charm is my premier skill. It is my bread-and-butter as to speak. I built myself on this charm, so don’t worry about accidents because I am really good at it.”

The Memory Charm (Obliviate), also known as the Forgetfulness Charm, was a charm used to erase specific memories from an individual’s mind.

“I focused my considerable talents solely on the Memory Charm until I perfected it, making it the only spell I can perform without fail,” Lockhart eyed Quinn with delight in his eyes. “In my pursuit of fame and glory, I utilized the charm extensively on people who performed heroic feats after interviewing them on every detail of their works, so they would not go ‘babbling’ while I take their credits in the form of my books.”

He smiled appreciatively at Quinn and spoke, “I am planning to leave Hogwarts tomorrow. This school has dangers lurking in every corner. The monster of Slytherin is still on the loose, and it struck again yesterday. I have to leave this place before it gets to me.”

No one had told Lockhart that the monster of Slytherin was already taken care of, and the school was safe from further petrification. The fraud author still believed that the horror was still roaming in the castle.

“The money I get from you will be more than enough for another expedition to a foreign land to interview another fellow and do ‘research’ on my ext book,” he pointed his wand at Quinn, ready to cast the charm, and grinned. “Maybe I will thank you in my next books for your help. Not that you will remember it.”

Quinn stood in his place looking at Lockhart with an expression that showed no fear, horror, or any negative emotion and conversely portrayed boredom. His face screamed, ‘why did I expect anything else’ through the expression.

He glanced at Lockhart’s wand, and the next moment Lockhart’s hand was forced open as the wand shot out his hand into Quinn’s grasp.

“And here I thought you escaped your original fate yesterday,” a sigh escaped Quinn. He looked up at the shocked fraud in front of him and spoke. “That is the problems with villains. They spend too much time explaining their plans. You should have straight out erased my memories without the monologue. Not that it would have worked.”

An alternating yellow and red flashed on Quinn’s nape as he used magic, and Lockhart’s knees buckled. The blonde pompous fraud fell onto the chair that Quinn expertly positioned just underneath him. ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

Lockhart looked down at his hands and watched as ropes slithered around his hands, legs, and torso.

“I accept I didn’t use honorable means to get you to sign the document,” said Quinn as he walked towards Lockhart. “But neither did you. All your works are based on lies and deceit. So, in this case, I like to think of myself as a thief stealing from a thief. Plus, it is not my fault that people believe in the silly books that you wrote.”

Putting his hands on Lockhart’s shoulder, Quinn leaned in and whispered, “The attempt to erase my memories was a mistake because it got me furious. But the bigger mistake was to try and take my money from me.”

“My family is exceedingly rich, richest in magical Britain. I don’t need to care about money as I can use all I want, and I would have more if I ask for it. I don’t need to work a single day in my life, and I won’t ever run out of riches.” He chuckled before continuing. “But, there is something special about the money I earned myself. This money results from my hard work and cunning to hoodwink you and then draft interesting things products that the students would buy.”

Lockhart winced when he felt Quinn’s grip tighten on his shoulders.

“You, trying to get your hands on that money, is unacceptable to me. It isn’t something I can forgive even though you were a sizable reason that I was able to earn a lot of it.” Lockhart heard a throaty chuckle in his ear as Quinn spoke. “So, a punishment is in order.”

Quinn removed his hand from Lockhart’s shoulder and stood up straight as he placed his hand on Lockhart’s head and swirled it around.

“You said Memory charm is your best charm, correct. So I think it will be fitting that I perform my first Memory charm on you.”

“N-No, p-please forgive me,” Lockhart stuttered as he begged Quinn to let him go. “You can keep the money. I promise I won’t come here ever again. Please, let me go.”

“Tut, tut, tut,” said Quinn as he shook Lockhart’s head from side to side. “Too late, I can’t let you go anymore.”

Quinn grinned, and signs of mania were evident in his expression.

“N-No! Please let me go!”

Magic stimulated in Quinn’s magical core as the Memory charm got activated.

‘I will erase everything about your job from your memory. Your only accomplishment in your life will be gone,’ smirked Quinn. He was going to erase knowledge about Lockhart’s travel, the people he interviewed, how Lockhart’s obliviated them to steal the credit, or that he was an author from Lockhart’s memory.

But then something happened.

A curse triggered inside Hogwarts. An esoteric and abstruse curse placed on Defense Against Dark Arts teaching position activated.

On the day Tom Marvolo Riddle / Voldemort got turned down the Defense Against Dark Arts teaching position by Dumbledore a few years later, he placed a curse on the Defense Against Dark Arts position. The curse ensures that no Defense Against Dark Arts professor would stay for longer than a year.

The curse slightly gave a nudge to Quinn’s mind, which was already under the influence of another magic.

A smirk so broad that it split Quinn’s face appeared as he laughed.

“Screw it, let’s go the canon way! Which we know is ALL THE WAY!”

Quinn’s magic entered Lockhart’s mind, rampaging inside it and erasing everything that made Gilderoy Lockhart, well, Gilderoy Lockhart.

In a few seconds, the magic settled, and Quinn removed his hand, and Lockhart’s head slumped forward.

Quinn frowned and walked to Lockhart’s front and lifted the newly obliviated man’s head with his chin.

“Lockhart?” Quinn called out. Quinn slapped the man on his cheeks, trying to wake him up. But the only response was some groaning.

“Alright, everything is fine,” Quinn beamed, and ropes-over-ropes covered Lockhart and propped him straight up on his feet.

“Let’s go, Mr. Lockhart,” Quinn smiled. “Let’s get you to your office. I know you will be more comfortable there.”

Lockhart’s body floated up and turned, so it was horizontal to the ground. Another look from Quinn and Lockhart with ropes turned invisible.

The boy hummed a happy tune as he skipped his way to Lockhart’s office.

On his nape, seven colors oscillated, shining with deep shades, giving the impression of deep entrenchment.

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Blue – S L O T H <– > A C E D I A

Pink – L U S T <– > L U X U R I A

Red – W R A T H <– > I R A

Yellow – G R E E D <– > A V A R I T I A

Violet – P R I D E <– > S U P E R B I A

Green – E N V Y <– > I N V I D I A

Orange – G L U T T O N Y <–> G U L A

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Quinn West – MC – Colors, colors, what are you?!

Gilderoy Lockhart – ??? – Gilderoy Lockhart no more.

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