So He’s the Bulldozer?

Dumbledore nodded heavily. "The house-elves searched through every student's dormitory, but they didn't find the blank diary."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore preempted him.

"That includes yours, Ginny's, and even those who've left the castle," he added quickly.

"What about the professors' offices?" Harry asked.

"You suspect Lockhart?" Dumbledore sounded surprised.

Harry nodded. "The diary can't just vanish into thin air. Hiding in a sewer isn't something I imagine Tom would choose."

"But these are professors," Dumbledore said hesitantly, still clearly uneasy with the idea.

Harry glanced at the empty spot where Snape usually stood. "You should be glad Professor Snape isn't here."

"Severus is different," Dumbledore said, his tone meaningful. "I've watched him grow up—from an eleven-year-old first-year to the man he is today."

"Well, you watched Lockhart grow up too," Harry countered with a deadpan expression. "He can't be much older than Snape—maybe twenty years at most."

"Lockhart is actually four years younger than Severus," Dumbledore corrected.

"He looks older," Harry dismissed with a wave. "But age doesn't matter."

Dumbledore sighed. "I'll ask the house-elves to keep an eye on him."

Harry shook his head firmly. "I want you to handle it personally. The house-elves can't be relied upon for this."

"I will protect the students…" Dumbledore began, his tone serious.

Harry interrupted him. "How secure is your position at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore blinked, caught off guard.

"If given the opportunity, would anyone try to remove you from the school?" Harry rephrased.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed.

"So there are people who would," Harry concluded, his tone thoughtful. "In that case, focus on protecting yourself first. You need to stay here—cling on if you have to—and solve this problem."

Dumbledore didn't respond immediately, but he understood Harry's meaning.

No matter what happened at the castle, as Headmaster, he would bear the brunt of the blame.

Three students had already been attacked.

"Searching the professors' offices is the least you could do. I'm sure they'd cooperate," Harry pressed.

McGonagall promptly spoke up. "For the safety of the students, I'd gladly allow it."

Dumbledore remained silent.

Harry shifted gears. "The first two students attacked—were their magical reserves also drained?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, they were. Do you think Tom is drawing power from them?"

"It's obvious," Harry replied with a shrug. "He's weak right now. I'd guess he's avoiding killing anyone for the moment."

"He's gathering strength," he continued, taking a deliberate step forward. His tone sharpened, his words like daggers aimed at Dumbledore. "Tom knows how to exploit fear. Think about the magic in his name."

"He'll sow greater and greater terror. Families of Muggle-borns, half-bloods, even pure-bloods…"

"And when he's strong enough, he'll kill someone—"

"—to detonate that fear."

Harry pointed to his own eyes, then turned his finger toward Dumbledore, as though piercing straight through him. The eerie reflection of candlelight in Harry's cat-like pupils sent a chill through the room.

"They'll use that fear to push you out of Hogwarts. Once you're gone, it's over."

"Everything you're trying to protect…"

"You're right, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted with a deep exhale, his voice heavy. He stood up resolutely. "I should act personally."

"Minerva, let's start with your office, shall we?" He turned to the stern professor standing beside the Weasleys.

McGonagall nodded. "Of course, I'm happy to cooperate."

She was the least likely suspect, but once Dumbledore decided to proceed, he was thorough. His wand moved with precision, and every object in her office flew past him, carefully examined before returning to its original place.

"Well, it seems I can rest easy," McGonagall said with a small smile.

"Minerva, please escort the Weasleys back to the common room," Dumbledore said with an apologetic nod. "Harry, I'll need you to stay with me for a bit longer."

They moved on to other professors' offices.

Harry saw many unfamiliar faces, including Trelawney from Divination and Kettleburn from Care of Magical Creatures.

After checking the offices on the upper floors, they arrived at Lockhart's on the second floor.

Dumbledore knocked on the door.

After a moment, Lockhart appeared, his elaborate red robes slightly askew, as though he'd hastily dressed. He looked surprised—or at least tried to look surprised—but his eyes betrayed a smug, overconfident energy.

"Professor Dumbledore! What brings you here?" Lockhart asked, fumbling with the buttons on his robe.

"The Chamber of Secrets was opened by a dark artifact," Dumbledore explained simply. "It has disappeared from the student who had it, so I thought it prudent to check the professors' offices as well."

"Are you accusing me?" Lockhart asked, his tone laced with exaggerated disbelief.

"We're checking everyone," Dumbledore clarified, smiling. "Minerva, Filius—I've already gone through their offices. You're next, and then Severus, Argus, and Rubeus."

"Well then, please, come in," Lockhart said with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

Harry narrowed his eyes, studying the man.

Dumbledore began his meticulous inspection. Every object in the office—from Lockhart's boastful memoirs to pink, perfumed letters, and even a lacy undergarment—floated before him, examined one by one.

Drawers opened themselves. Even Lockhart's robes fluttered briefly.

Harry's eyes widened.

No blank diary.

Dumbledore, too, seemed surprised. He waved his wand again, summoning every book, manuscript, and letter. Each was suspended mid-air for a rapid, thorough inspection.

Manuscripts, romance novels, and even a collection of love letters—none of them stood out.

"Well?" Lockhart finally asked, his voice tinged with nervous impatience.

"Nothing unusual," Dumbledore admitted, shaking his head as he returned everything to its place.

Lockhart exhaled in relief, flashing a tight, dry smile. "Professor Dumbledore, while I understand your concerns, I must say—you've wasted your time here."

"I'm Gilderoy Lockhart, honorary member of the Anti-Dark Force League and Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. If I'd found such an artifact, I'd have handed it over immediately!"

Harry's eyes narrowed further, his expression grave.

"I believe you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said gently. "But I must move on to the other professors' offices."

"Of course! Carry on!" Lockhart said with affected politeness, eagerly ushering them out the door.

As soon as they left, they heard the door slam shut behind them, followed by the scraping sound of a chair being dragged to barricade it.

"Did you sense anything, Harry?" Dumbledore asked once they were out of earshot.

Harry hesitated before shaking his head. "No, but Lockhart is acting strange."

He paused, struggling to articulate. "He's the type to crave attention—to exaggerate his involvement in every situation. But this time, he couldn't wait to get rid of us."

"Perhaps it's just late?" Dumbledore suggested lightly. "I didn't find anything out of the ordinary. Every item was tested, and none showed any magical anomalies."

"Even Voldemort at his peak would have trouble hiding from me, let alone this fragment of him," Dumbledore added, though he sounded uncertain.

Harry remained skeptical.

As they reached the main staircase, Harry suddenly spoke up. "Professor, there's one more serious matter you didn't address."

Dumbledore looked surprised. Had he missed something?

"Three affairs," Harry said, holding up three fingers. "I saw his notes—since coming to Hogwarts, Lockhart's already started at least three romances."

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Powerstones?

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