Hogwarts: Becoming the White Lord from Breathing

Chapter 132 Lockhart the Snake Man

A person, a dragon, and a phoenix walked on the second floor of the castle, with a clear goal—the abandoned girls' restroom on the second floor.

During this time, Damon's magic continued to extend, exploring the entire second floor of the castle to ensure that, apart from Dumbledore who was hiding, there was no other outsider on the second floor.

Damon wasn't actually as carefree as Dumbledore.

Within his capabilities, he did not want any unnecessary accidents or sacrifices to occur due to carelessness.

According to Harry's information, the basilisk devoured Professor Lockhart. Damon saw the opened entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and guessed what had happened—Professor Lockhart opened the Chamber of Secrets and was devoured by the basilisk?

Has he always been this brave?
Damon approached the bronze faucet in the bathroom, and before he could say anything, ripples appeared in the air, and the secret chamber in front of him opened on its own.

It's Dumbledore.

He seemed very curious about how Damon would handle the situation, and even a little impatient.

call.
A cool, damp breeze flowed out from the sealed room. As Damon entered, the subtle sound of the wind gradually amplified, as if forming a cavity, making a loud noise that brought an atmosphere of impending storm.

Damon didn't just go in—that's something only a reckless person would do.

"Noberta".

He called out softly, and the fire dragon, which had grown slightly larger after entering the washroom, pointed its mouth at the entrance of the secret chamber.

Then came a three-minute-long breath of fire.

The crimson flames that could melt gold and iron continued to spew out, but Damon was not very satisfied with its power.

"I feel like the power isn't controlled enough."

Perhaps, in the future, he could devise a synergy technique to amplify the power of flames using his own magic.

However, his current understanding of flames is still insufficient. It's time to find time to study the ever-burning Kebulai Immortal Flame—let's wait until this is over and Old Deng drops some gold coins.

Three minutes later, the breathing stopped.

Norbert snorted, and the last spark burned out.

However, the wind blowing out of the sealed room was still cold, with only the temperature rising slightly.

Clearly, relying on the breath of a single fire dragon is far from enough to deal with Voldemort using the "battlefield" effect.

"They still won't come out. Has the old man set something up inside?"

A fierce, eerie wind blew, carrying with it a disdainful, wicked laugh.

There is no doubt that the people inside are both provoking him and inviting him.

Damon raised an eyebrow, waved his wand, and Norbert instantly shrank to the size of a fist, perching on his shoulder to act as his eyes. Damon looked into the tunnel, but eventually flew down.

Regardless of who is inside, this has just happened, and dragging it out is not a good thing; it will only give the other party more time to prepare.

Moreover, Dumbledore was right behind him, so in the worst-case scenario, it would be two against one, so there was nothing to worry about.

Damon's figure flew between the slides—it was real flight, not using a levitation charm or anything like that to hold onto himself. In the wizarding world, only Voldemort had mastered this spell, and among the Death Eaters, only Snape truly knew it—Dumbledore was too embarrassed to ask Snape to learn it, but Damon was quite shameless.

After learning Occlumency, he traded ten photos of Lily for the spell—although he couldn't master it at the time and was ridiculed by Snape.

However, after his talent for spellcasting improved again, he quickly figured it out and is now able to fly.

He descended the slope at a relatively fast pace and reached the ground, looking around.

The damp nest, with extremely low visibility, and the sound of lips clashing coming from the darkness ahead, sounded like some humanoid creature feeding deep in the shadows.
Damon snapped his fingers, and a small sun hung high in the sky, instantly illuminating the surrounding ten meters as if it were daytime.

He continued flying forward, the light source moving with him. The feeders inside seemed to sense the approaching light, their feeding sounds pausing for a moment before becoming even more frantic!
For some reason, even though they were still about a hundred meters away, the sounds of lips opening and closing, teeth grinding and sucking bones, chewing and swallowing—all those disgusting sounds that made him uncomfortable—seemed to be right next to him, causing Damon to frown.

Such a tactic, which serves no purpose other than to disgust people, is an attempt to amplify the fear and discomfort in people's hearts.
Damon snorted and waved his wand.

The flowing magic converged into a solid arrow of light in front of him, and instead of being released immediately, it continued to accumulate power. As Damon moved forward, the 'presence' of this arrow of light became stronger and stronger, until the voice within could no longer ignore it.

"Hmph! You rude brat."

The sounds of feeding ceased, replaced by a dense hissing. Hundreds of tiny venomous snakes emerged from the darkness into the light source, leaping towards Damon without hesitation.

It's not dangerous, but it's effective enough—if Damon insists on not firing the light arrow, a mishandling could cause him to be touched by this highly concentrated source of magic and then blow himself up.

"Can anyone be more rude than someone who has usurped another's place?"

Damon tapped his wand lightly on the ground.

"Da da da--"

The faintest sound was drowned out by the hissing of the snakes, but after three intermittent sounds, it amplified like thunder. The sky trembled under the thunder, and in the blink of an eye, countless small stones fell. These stones deformed as they fell, turning into a rain of thousands of needles that pierced through all the small snakes that attacked.

Damon continued forward, carrying the light arrow. The snake corpses and stone needles in front of him spontaneously dissolved, without hindering him in the slightest.

As they moved forward, a strange figure appeared at the end of their line of sight—it was Professor Lockhart, but it was also clearly not—his appearance had changed drastically.

The dazzling blond hair was gone, replaced by a smooth, sloping body. Wearing Professor Lockhart's favorite purple robes, the bizarre hybrid of a snake-headed human rose from the ground—surrounded by piles of rat corpses, with bloodstains still on his mouth.

"Damon White."

The snake's head opened its mouth, its squinting eyes revealing a yellow, menacing light, and its voice was hoarse like that of a demon from hell.

"Oh—what should I call you now? Professor Lockhart, Basilisk, or Voldemort?"

“Lockhart has given his life for me, Damon White, it’s all your fault.”

The bizarre snake body writhed in the air, its eyes filled with hatred and mockery.

“If you hadn’t stirred up his jealousy, it wouldn’t have been so easy for me to replace him—and if it weren’t for my deep-seated hatred for you, I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

“Damon White, you are the culprit behind all of this.”

(End of this chapter)