Chapter 13: The One where He Thinks
Gilderoy Lockhart sat in the quiet of his newly acquired quarters in hogwarts, the soft flicker of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. It had been a long day and everything seemed to be going according to plan, but as always, Gilderoy's mind was never at rest. His thoughts drifted toward the magic that had brought him this far: his ability to project items, weapons, and even objects from the worlds he had seen in his previous life.
This power had been his greatest asset, but it was not without its limitations. And these limitations were becoming increasingly troublesome as his ambitions grew larger.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, running through the weaknesses of his projection abilities. There was always an itch at the back of his mind, a reminder that despite the vastness of his power, there were boundaries he couldn't yet cross.
The First Limitation: Disposable and One-Time Use Items
"The first obstacle," he muttered to himself, "is that I can't project disposable, one-time-use items."
This had been a frustrating realization. Potions, elixirs, and any other consumable items that existed in the worlds he had seen—none of them could be projected. The magic that governed his ability seemed to reject the temporary nature of such items. He could conjure a sword or a suit of armor, even the most intricate weapons, but something as simple as a healing potion was beyond him.
That was why he had to strike deals with others—like the one he had made with Rias Gremory for the Phenex Tears. He couldn't project the tears himself because they were essentially consumables. He needed to obtain them from their original source.
"It's infuriating," Gilderoy grumbled. "I can project a thousand-year-old weapon with intricate details, but a simple potion? Impossible."
The Second Limitation: Complex Science-Based Items
Gilderoy's mind shifted to another limitation, one that had been nagging at him since his first attempt to project something from a science-heavy world.
"Science-based objects," he mused, "are still a problem."
While his power allowed him to summon many things, advanced technology was often beyond his reach. He could project simple gadgets, weapons, and armor, but when it came to anything highly advanced—like Iron Man's armor or the Omnitrix—he hit a wall. These items weren't just physical objects; they were built on highly specialized knowledge and systems that Gilderoy didn't fully understand.
Take Iron Man's suit, for example. Gilderoy could project it, but the suit would be useless to him. It had been specifically designed for Tony Stark, and Stark's biometrics, intelligence, and specialized systems were the key to unlocking its full potential. Gilderoy could wear the suit, but it wouldn't activate for him. The security protocols Stark had placed within it made sure of that.
"It's just a copy," Gilderoy said, frustration edging into his voice. "A shell of the original, without the brain or systems behind it. I don't have Stark's genius or the knowledge to bypass the security measures. So, I project it, but I can't use it."
And that wasn't all. He had once tried to project gadgets from the Doraemon-verse, thinking they would be powerful tools for his operations. But again, the complexity of those objects was too much. They required intricate knowledge of advanced technology that Gilderoy didn't possess.
The Third Limitation: Organic Matter
Gilderoy stood from his chair and paced the room, his thoughts turning to the third major limitation of his abilities: organic matter.
He stopped at the mirror, staring at his reflection as if trying to unlock the secrets of his own power. "I can't project anything organic," he muttered. "Not living creatures, not plants, nothing with a true life force."
This had been a significant problem when he needed Medusa's head to defeat the Basilisk. He couldn't just project the head, even though he had seen it with his own eyes. The head was a part of Medusa, a living being, and his projection ability simply didn't work on anything living or once-living. He needed the real thing.
That was why he couldn't just project the Sentinels from the world of the X-Men: Days of Future Past. The Sentinels were unique, somewhere between organic and inorganic. They used Mystique's DNA, and that blend of biology and technology rendered them impossible to project. He could replicate their metal structure, their weapons, and even their design—but without the organic component, they were just hollow husks.
"That's why I needed to bring the Sentinels here physically," Gilderoy said, shaking his head. "I can't project their genetic material."
The Fourth Limitation: Alterations and Modifications
Then there was the issue of modifications. Even when Gilderoy could project something, it was often a perfect copy of the original. This meant he couldn't make any adjustments or improvements to the item.
"I project exactly what I saw," he mused. "But if I need to change it, I'm stuck."
This had been particularly frustrating with the Sentinels. If Gilderoy could modify them, perhaps he could remove the need for the organic component, or enhance their design to make them more formidable. But the magic simply replicated what already existed, without any room for customization.
If Gilderoy wanted to improve the design of a weapon or armor, he needed external expertise—someone who could take the projected item and work on it, refining it into something more suited to his needs. But finding such expertise, especially in a medieval world like Westeros, was no easy task.
The Fifth Limitation: Time and Energy Constraints
Gilderoy sank back into his chair, his mind dwelling on another limitation that had been creeping up on him as his ambitions grew: the strain of projection itself.
Every time he projected something, it took a toll on him. The more complex the object, the more mental and magical energy it required. While he could summon simple items with ease, summoning more intricate objects—like Iron Man's armor, the Sentinels, or weapons of great power—required a tremendous amount of focus and energy.
"There's a limit to how much I can project at once," Gilderoy muttered. "And the bigger or more powerful the item, the shorter I can maintain it. I can't just summon an army of weapons without draining myself in the process."
This limitation was a constant reminder that despite his abilities, he wasn't invincible. He had to be careful about when and where he used his powers, because once he reached his limit, he would be left vulnerable.
The Sixth Limitation: The Copy Cannot Evolve
Finally, there was the static nature of the projections themselves. Once Gilderoy projected something, it was fixed in that form—it couldn't evolve, grow, or change on its own. This wasn't a problem for weapons or tools, but it posed a major issue for adaptive or intelligent systems.
Take Zanpakutō from the Bleach universe. These were powers or weapons tied directly to the user's soul, personality, and growth. Even if Gilderoy could project a Zanpakutō, it would be a static object, without the ability to grow with him or change forms as it would for its original wielder.
"I can project a Zanpakuto," Gilderoy said to himself, "but it will be just a shadow of the original. It won't have the depth or potential to grow with me. It's a tool, nothing more."
Conclusion: The Boundaries of Power
Gilderoy sighed deeply, resting his chin on his hand as he stared into the flickering candlelight. For all the power his Kaleidoscope magic granted him, there were limits—boundaries that even he couldn't cross.
"I'm powerful," he muttered, "but not all-powerful. There are walls around this ability that I haven't yet found a way to break."
But those walls wouldn't stop him. No, they would simply make him more determined. He had spent years building his empire, crossing between worlds, forging alliances, and gathering resources. And if he had to manipulate others to overcome these limitations, then so be it.
As Gilderoy sat in the quiet of his quarters, he knew that his journey was far from over. These limitations were merely obstacles—obstacles he intended to overcome, one way or another.
For now, he would work within the boundaries of his power. But in time, he would find a way to break free from them.