In Lockhart's eyes, the Tom Riddle trapped in the diary Horcrux was nothing less than a dark magical creature.
Yes, Tom exhibited the clear traits of a dark magical creature—those qualities of "non-existence" and "phenomenon" that could be analyzed and countered from that angle.
This was right in Lockhart's wheelhouse.
One of the three pillars of Defense Against the Dark Arts: Dark Creature Defense!
As Lockhart carved out his own path in the magical world, he was no longer content with the foundations he'd inherited from the dozen or so powerful wizards whose skills he'd "borrowed." He yearned to push further, to explore deeper realms.
So, what was the next step in Dark Creature Defense?
The answer: Dark Creature Cultivation.
From this perspective, Rubeus Hagrid was actually a more advanced magical creature expert than Newt Scamander or Professor Kettleburn.
Kettleburn's level was understanding. Newt's was taming. Hagrid's? Cultivation.
Of course, the depth of one's expertise didn't imply superiority or inferiority. They were simply working at different levels in their respective fields.
Lockhart was just trying to pinpoint his own niche talent.
He was pretty good at teaching—or rather, he loved diving into the essence of magic, unraveling its mechanics, and finding ways to explain it so others could unlock its potential.
Maybe it was fate, or maybe it tied into his identities as a "writer" and "professor" in some quirky way.
Back at the Crabbe family's Niffler breeding grounds, when the werewolves and dark wizards attacked with a slew of countermeasures tailored to his creatures like Nifflers, Lockhart had already started thinking along these lines.
Cultivating dark magical creatures wasn't like breeding magical beasts. Dark creatures lacked "biological" traits—no aging, no sickness, no true gender, and definitely no reproduction.
But that's what made the magical world so fascinating: the boundaries between fields were always blurry.
Lockhart had once told his students about house-elves, how their deep involvement in "wizard life" and even "wizard fairy-tale adventures" had started shifting them toward the traits of magical creatures, showing signs of life's cycles—birth, aging, death, and even reproduction.
His recent studies of the Patronus Charm and its opposite, the Call of the Wild, had given him a new insight: the manifestation of life's vibrancy.
When life gained vibrancy, it became real in the tangible world. It gained biological traits.
See? It made sense in theory.
But how to put it into practice?
Magical experiments were risky, and Lockhart wasn't about to mess around with his Nifflers or other creatures. If something went wrong, it'd be a disaster. Since crossing into this world, he'd never felt alone, and the joy of magic came so easily—all thanks to the companionship of his little buddies.
They were like family to him.
So, he needed a test subject.
Enter: Tom Riddle!
You've been itching to come back to life, haven't you? Well, I'll give you a hand—help you, a dark magical creature, transform into a natural being. I'll help you shine with the vibrant colors of life.
Love—maternal love—what a powerful force. It could make even the dullest, most lifeless existence burst into brilliant hues.
Tom!
Let's see your limits!
You've got this!
And so, Lockhart spent the entire night coaching Tom, from the core philosophy of the Patronus Charm to every tiny practical detail of casting it. He held nothing back, citing examples, diving into minutiae, pouring out everything he knew.
Then he witnessed Tom's talent—absolutely dazzling, utterly prodigious.
Tom quickly spotted a flaw and posed a question that even Lockhart couldn't answer: "Professor Lockhart, doesn't the power of love bind the self? Pursuing it would only hold you back, sap your drive to move forward, right?"
Lockhart frowned, mulling over how to respond. Quill in hand, he hesitated. He took magic seriously and wasn't about to give a half-baked answer to a student.
They say you don't wander far when your parents are alive, and maternal love could indeed feel like that sometimes.
Wait.
No!
He stared at the words "Professor Lockhart" at the start of Tom's question, stunned. Quickly, in Ginny's tone, he scribbled, "What do you mean, Professor Lockhart? I'm Ginny…"
Before he could finish, new words appeared on the page.
—"Ginny couldn't explain the Patronus Charm this well. Honestly, back when I was at Hogwarts, no professor broke down magic this thoroughly."
—"Professor Lockhart, your explanations are so professional they betray your mastery. The way you carefully choose your words, the joy and love for magic that slips through—it's not Ginny. I knew it was you right away."
—"Did Ginny get scared of me and hand me over to you? That's it, isn't it?"
—"Let me guess: I'm in that 'Chamber of Secrets' scene Ginny mentioned, inside some wondrous illusion you created, right?"
Bloody hell!
Lockhart could only gape. This kid!
Blinking at the confident, flowing script in the diary, he suddenly understood why all those Hogwarts professors back in the day had been so fond of Tom.
Like them, he couldn't help but think: Bloody hell, this kid!
Lockhart had to admit, if he were Dumbledore and met a student like Tom, he'd be itching to teach him everything he knew.
It reminded him of what the forest witch had told him: "I hope you go further down this magical path." A selfless wish for someone more gifted to carry the beauty of magic forward.
Lockhart sat in silence for a long moment before finally setting his quill back to the page. "Yes, I'm Gilderoy Lockhart."
He couldn't let Tom's momentum overshadow him. Time to push back. "I don't know exactly what you are, but from my professional perspective, you've got the traits of a dark magical creature."
Tom's response was just a string of ellipses: …
Lockhart kept writing. "Forgive me for trying to influence you. The moment I saw you, I couldn't help myself—I've been exploring how to transform dark magical creatures into natural beings."
He eyed the peculiar diary with a mix of caution and excitement, his eyes gleaming with the pure enthusiasm of a researcher. "What I'm saying is, if you're willing, I might be able to help you gain the vitality of a living being. Maybe you'd like to step out of that book and truly experience this vibrant, wondrous world!"
"Love is a powerful force. It can give life its color."
"You're right that love can be a constraint, but isn't that just life? A wild horse runs free but loses its way. We need to learn to cage the beast within, to harness it—not let it run us into a dead end."
"From dark creature to natural being—that's a grand adventure. So… are you in?"
Lockhart's writing was tinged with nervous anticipation.
He felt like a creepy uncle luring a kid with candy or a mad scientist asking a caged monkey if it wanted to become human. Hope and nerves all tangled up.
Tom was all in.
Absolutely thrilled.
His greatest desire—his only desire—was to come back to life!
If it weren't for needing to sync with Ginny's life essence, he wouldn't have let her unleash the Basilisk on students, risking his resurrection with unpredictable chaos.
He wasn't so obsessed with targeting Muggle-borns that he'd prioritize it over his revival. He knew his priorities and wasn't that bored.
And now, how delightful! Like someone delivering firewood in the dead of winter, here was Professor Lockhart offering to help him come back to life.
Tom didn't doubt the offer's sincerity for a second.
His life had always been like this—smooth sailing. No matter the mess, someone always popped up to enthusiastically lend a hand.
He was used to it.
But…
Love?
At sixteen, Tom was still different from the sixty-six-year-old Voldemort. He still dreamed of staying at Hogwarts, the place he considered home, before Dumbledore—the man who despised him—kicked him out. Deep down, he still held a flicker of hope and belief in love.
Sometimes, you had to admit, Tom and Harry were walking completely different paths.
Harry, too, treated a place that wasn't truly his as home and had a guardian who loathed him, treating him like a freak. But Harry was lucky—his uncle, no matter how much he disliked him, never kicked him out.
Tom, though, was cast out by Dumbledore, the head of his "family."
He hadn't yet reached the despair of losing his "home" entirely. He hadn't cast what might've been the most powerful spell of his life, cursing Hogwarts out of love and hate, yet only targeting the Defense Against the Dark Arts post—as if Harry, kicked out by Uncle Vernon, angrily cursed the Dursley home but only doomed Dudley to a short stay.
Hate, burning hate, rooted in love—deep, unshakable love.
—"I've actually studied the magic of 'love,'" Tom finally wrote. "I don't know if I should believe in its power, but… I'm willing to try."
Well, damn!
Lockhart grinned. Voldemort studying the power of love? That's a new one.
With an odd expression, he scribbled casually, "What kind of magic?"
Tom paused for a long moment before slowly writing, letter by letter:
—"Bloodline magic. A magic that explores love, lineage, home, loneliness, happiness, betrayal, severance—and what cannot be severed."
"!!!"