Marvel's Hogwarts Professor

"Curse!"

The single word hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Mephisto's heart skipped a beat as a deep sense of unease washed over him. He immediately felt an invisible, secretive force—dark and intricate—rise and then dissipate into the void. For a brief moment, his avatar remained unaffected, and he allowed himself to believe that Lockhart was merely bluffing.

But the fleeting confidence shattered when Mephisto's expression shifted. His senses stretched across dimensions, connecting to his clones scattered throughout Earth. He could feel it—a creeping, insidious power coursing through the fabric of his essence.

One by one, the shadows linked to his clones began to unravel, collapsing into streams of dark light. The clones themselves were not spared. He felt their vitality diminish at an alarming rate, their breaths weakening, their souls unraveling as if Death itself had extended its hand.

Panic flickered across Mephisto's face, though he quickly masked it. Drawing from the strength of his true self, he abandoned three of his clones without hesitation. Sacrifices were necessary to preserve the remaining two, which he managed to stabilize just in time.

Lockhart, observing Mephisto's struggle, allowed himself a faint smirk. This wasn't meant to obliterate Mephisto's influence outright—such an act was near impossible against a dimensional demon as experienced as him. No, this was merely a warning.

Lockhart's message was clear: I am not to be trifled with.

As Mephisto's shadow stabilized, the demon lord chuckled, though his tone betrayed a hint of nervous tension.

"Impressive. Truly impressive," Mephisto drawled, clapping his hands mockingly. "Apart from the Ancient One, I have never encountered a sorcerer of Kamar-Taj capable of such precision."

He let his words linger before continuing with deliberate provocation.

"You've delved into the rules themselves—touching the very edges of the source. A bold move, Lockhart. But tell me, don't you fear the Vishanti's wrath? Such interference... surely it presses against the limits of what he tolerates?"

Lockhart remained expressionless; his sharp eyes fixed on Mephisto. He had no interest in engaging further with the demon's taunts. With a subtle wave of his hand, he dismissed Mephisto's phantom.

But just as the shadow began to dissolve, Mephisto's parting words echoed ominously.

"Lockhart, should you seek to truly understand and control the origin, you must sever your ties with the Vishanti. When you're ready to discuss how, you know where to find me."

The avatar faded, leaving Lockhart alone with his thoughts. He sipped his tea, his mind churning as he pondered Mephisto's final words.

The contract with the Vishanti was a matter of pride and power for any sorcerer of Kamar-Taj, a sacred pact forged for their protection. Yet Lockhart was no ordinary sorcerer. With his system at his disposal, he doubted the Vishanti could hold any sway over him.

Still... what did the system want in return?

Lockhart frowned, his fingers tightening briefly around his teacup. He had long believed there was no such thing as unconditional generosity. Every pact, every alliance, had its price.

Meanwhile, back in the teleportation square, the pale golden magic cage that had once surrounded the battlefield began to fade. The lingering hellfire that had scarred the ground flickered before vanishing, its energy absorbed into the ether.

As the magical barrier dissipated, the marble floor, pitted and cracked from the earlier battle, began to repair itself. The destruction rewound as if time itself had turned back, and soon the square looked as pristine as before Ghost Rider's arrival.

Yet, traces of the conflict remained. Scattered across the ground were fragments of robots transformed by hellfire, now reduced to blackened wreckage.

In the center of the square, Ghost Rider lay motionless. The once-vivid flames that defined his form had dimmed, leaving only a faint gray mist lingering over his body. This mist acted like a shroud, suppressing the hellfire within him and keeping him unconscious.

The basilisk, however, paid no mind to its defeated foe. Slowly, it coiled its massive body, slithering forward to its master. Lockhart stood at the edge of the square, his figure commanding yet calm.

The great serpent bowed its head as it approached, and Lockhart placed a hand on its scaly hide. His fingers traced the raised ridges on either side of the basilisk's head, and a small, satisfied smile spread across his face.

"You've grown stronger," he murmured, sensing the transformation within his pet. The basilisk had consumed the essence of a dragon, and its power had advanced significantly.

The basilisk hissed softly, swaying its head in an almost playful manner. Its long tongue flicked out to lick Lockhart's cheek—a rare show of affection. Lockhart chuckled lightly but stepped back, knowing the serpent understood not to overdo such displays.

Turning his attention to the center of the square, Lockhart approached Ghost Rider's prone form. The five cursed puppets that had surrounded the Rider earlier dissolved into mist with a flick of Lockhart's wand.

Freed from the puppets' curse, the suppressed hellfire within Ghost Rider began to stir. Sparks danced across the skeletal frame as the flames attempted to reignite.

Lockhart raised his wand, aiming it directly at the Rider's skull. With a whispered incantation, a pale golden rune appeared on the bony forehead. The hellfire sputtered briefly before extinguishing completely.

Johnny Blaze's body began to reform. Flesh and blood materialized over the skeletal structure, and within moments, the man behind the Ghost Rider was revealed.

Johnny groaned as he regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Lockhart's stern gaze.

"I... I'm sorry," Johnny stammered, his voice laced with desperation. "I lost control—it wasn't me! It was the other soul, the spirit of Zathanos! I had nothing to do with this!"

Lockhart's lips tightened as Johnny continued rambling.

"The spirit is from hell!" Johnny insisted. "It's manic, uncontrollable, and easily provoked—"

"Enough."

With a flick of his wand, Lockhart silenced Johnny's protests, leaving him to make muffled sounds of protest.

"You bargained with Mephisto, made a pact with Zathanos, and inherited the fire of hell. Johnny Blaze, I know exactly who and what you are," Lockhart stated coldly.

Johnny's eyes widened, shocked at how much Lockhart seemed to know.

Lockhart continued, his tone growing colder. "This is the Vientiane World. Here, you do not act without consequence. You broke in, attacked my guards, and failed. You must pay the price for your actions."

The weight of Lockhart's words silenced Johnny, who could only nod weakly.

Satisfied, Lockhart removed the silencing spell.

"I will ask you again," Lockhart said, his voice icy. "Do you understand?"

Johnny hesitated, his eyes darting nervously between Lockhart and the basilisk coiled beside him. The serpent's tongue flicked ominously, and the cursed puppets reappeared, their spectral forms watching silently.

"I... I understand," Johnny finally whispered.

Lockhart gave a small nod. "Good."

Turning slightly, Lockhart's gaze softened, but his next words carried weight. "As payment for your transgressions, I require a portion of your hellfire."

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