"Woo~" The leader of the snowmen, capable of spraying water, raised his head and let out a mournful whimper as the surviving snowmen limped toward him.
The snowman leader led his tribe in kneeling before Moriarty, his eyes filled with gratitude. He made gurgling sounds, gesturing back and forth between Moriarty and the infant snowman.
Lockhart scratched his head. "Uh, I think they're thanking you for saving their child."
Moriarty regarded them coldly for a moment before shifting his gaze away. Had it not been for the Ice Moon Necklace, he might have used these snowmen to practice the Death Slayer Charm.
Of course, the fact that a dark wizard had slaughtered many of them was crucial. The yeti tribe had paid a heavy price.
Moriarty sought vengeance, not mindless slaughter.
The snowmen hesitated, wanting to inquire about the Ice Moon Necklace, but the moment Moriarty hissed in Parseltongue, they fled in terror.
The dread brought by the twelve ice serpents was far worse than death itself.
Lockhart, upon hearing the hiss, lost control of himself. He fell to the ground, staring at Moriarty in disbelief.
"You… you never told me you were a Parselmouth!
And you killed three people! Are you a Dark wizard?
And those spells? Oh, Merlin… who the hell are you!?"
Lockhart let out a shriek, then collapsed backward, his overactive imagination convinced that Moriarty would end him.
Moriarty snorted and raised his staff, pointing it at Lockhart.
"Oh my god! Please don't kill me! I won't breathe a word about what happened today!" Lockhart groveled at Moriarty's feet, weeping. "Please, I'll tell you all my secrets, just don't kill me!"
"Your secrets?" Moriarty's lips curled in amusement. "You mean the fact that you're a fraud? That all your books are plagiarized from real adventurers? Or that the only spell you've mastered is the Memory Charm?"
"How… how do you know everything!?"
Lockhart stared at Moriarty as if he were some otherworldly being, his entire body trembling.
"It's a talent, Mr. Lockhart." Moriarty lowered his wand, a smirk playing at his lips. "It's understandable that you wouldn't comprehend. But what I find curious is—why didn't you use a Memory Charm on me while I was resting?"
"You had the perfect opportunity," Moriarty continued, his voice laced with mockery. "Imagine it, Lockhart. One flick of your wand, and you'd have another thrilling adventure to publish!
Rescuing a baby yeti from an evil Dark wizard? Winning the friendship of the yeti tribe? That book would be a bestseller."
Moriarty's gaze bore into Lockhart's wide, panicked eyes. "So why didn't you do it?"
"I didn't dare." Lockhart gave a bitter smile. "You're too powerful. Too mysterious. I was afraid… afraid you'd kill me."
Moriarty chuckled, nodding. "Smart man." He patted Lockhart's shoulder. "Years from now, you'll be grateful you didn't try."
Lockhart, sensing a chance at survival, let out a relieved sigh—until Moriarty lifted his staff again.
Lockhart squeezed his eyes shut.
"Scourgify."
"Huh?" Lockhart blinked, realizing the fight's traces were gone. His pants, too, were dry.
"Moriarty… why didn't you kill me?"
"What good would it do?" Moriarty replied dismissively. "You're more useful to me alive than dead."
Moriarty adjusted his tone to sound less menacing.
Lockhart slowly nodded. "What do you want me to do?"
Moriarty tilted Lockhart's chin upward with his staff. "Surrender. Swear loyalty to me."
"You—you want to be the third Dark Lord?" Lockhart stammered.
"The Dark Lord?" Moriarty scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Don't compare me to Grindelwald or Voldemort. They were unworthy."
Moriarty's expression grew serious. "Magic is boundless. A true wizard must pursue it endlessly.
The past two Dark Lords? Wasted potential.
Grindelwald wanted to elevate wizardkind.
Voldemort wanted to rule the magical world.
Bound by ambition, they ceased to be pure wizards."
Moriarty's gaze sharpened. "Unlike them, I see magic's true vastness. I aim to soar in its skies.
Power, status, wealth, fame… They are stepping stones for my ascension."
Lifting Lockhart to his feet, Moriarty's piercing eyes locked onto his. "Think, Lockhart. You would be swearing fealty to the future God of Magic."
Lockhart's blue eyes welled with emotion. "I admit… I am drawn to your words. If I follow you, perhaps I can glimpse that magical sky, even if only for a moment."
Moriarty nodded. Lockhart's admiration had always been evident.
The man was a fraud, but deep down, he yearned for true power.
Lockhart knelt, stretching out his right hand. "Let's make an Unbreakable Vow. I swear my allegiance to you."
Finding the process of the Fidelius Charm cumbersome, Moriarty shook his head.
"I have a more binding spell. When the time comes, you'll prove your loyalty."
Lockhart didn't complain. Instead, he asked, "What next, young master?"
"Do not call me 'master.' Call me 'young master.'"
Moriarty smirked. "By the way, I only told you my first name, didn't I?"
"Yes, young master." Lockhart's eyes widened. "You're a Parselmouth… That means… You're a descendant of Slytherin!"
Moriarty inclined his head. "My surname is Slytherin. The last direct heir of Salazar Slytherin.
And now, I'm returning to England… to claim the castle he left behind."
Lockhart gasped before throwing himself to the ground, kowtowing twelve times.
The action only irritated Moriarty.
"Lockhart, true loyalty is not shown through theatrics. I am not a tyrant."
"You're kind, young master," Lockhart insisted. "Since I have sworn loyalty, I must be a proper servant."
"No, no," Moriarty waved a hand dismissively. "In England, you will continue publishing books.
Your next title: In Eastern Tibet with Slytherin."
Lockhart's eyes lit up. "You're not exposing me?"
"That depends on me, Lockhart." Moriarty left it hanging. Lockhart was a useful public face, and Moriarty had plans.
"Boom!"
The earth shook violently.
Lockhart paled. "M-Master! An earthquake? A landslide!?"
Moriarty narrowed his eyes, sensing surging magical forces.
Following the energy, his gaze locked onto a distant snowy peak.
His face darkened.
"There's another yeti tribe up there."
As if to confirm his words, fire erupted on the mountain.
A massive, seven-meter-long flaming crow shrieked in the sky—followed by two more.
Lockhart panicked. "Young master! Your protective wards—can they still hold?"
"I'm more interested in who is fighting." Moriarty's eyes gleamed.
A battle over the Ice Moon Necklace?
Then, a dragon's roar split the air.
Moriarty smirked.
Chinese wizards.
"Lockhart, what do you know about Chinese magic?"
Lockhart gulped. "Not much. European and American wizards rarely go to China. I heard magic weakens there… And another rumor—"
His words stopped short.
He pointed at the sky, screaming.
"Oh, no! Young master, those fire crows… they're heading straight for us!"