Lockhart of The Kaleidoscope

The deafening crack of the Basilisk's fangs striking stone echoed through the Chamber of Secrets, the sound reverberating off the ancient walls like a death knell. Gilderoy Lockhart stumbled to his feet, still invisible under Annabeth's cap, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind raced.

He had no time. No time to think. No time to adjust.

The spell he had been painstakingly writing during the battle between Gojo and the Basilisk—was still glowing faintly beneath the serpent's body. But it wasn't ready. It was incomplete. If he activated it now, there was no telling what could happen.

But he had no choice.

He had hoped to mimic the legendary Shirou Emiya, whose Unlimited Blade Works had once overwhelmed the mighty Gilgamesh. Shirou's reality marble had been a dimension filled with countless weapons, each more powerful than the last. Gilderoy had hoped to recreate that—teleporting the Basilisk into his own reality marble, where he could bombard it with the vast arsenal of treasures from countless worlds. There, he would annihilate the creature without expending a drop of magical energy.

But Gilderoy was not Shirou Emiya.

He had no idea how Emiya manifests his reality marble. But he has his own theory. He knew the Kaleidoscope magic's primary function is to travel between dimensions so he had tried to improvise. A reality marble too was a dimension with unique thing about it being that its within his soul .Reality Marble is a plane of existence that reflects the caster's psyche. It's one of the highest levels of magic, and only a few can use it, as it requires the ability to manifest an entire world independent of the laws of reality.In summary, a Reality Marble is a projection of the user's innermost self onto the world, temporarily rewriting reality. It was a place filled with artifacts, weapons, and relics, each plucked from the worlds he had seen through various movies, tv shows, animes and comics. But it wasn't just a simple storage space. It was a living, breathing part of him—an extension of his essence, his soul. And now, it was his only chance.

The Basilisk lunged.

"Now!" Gilderoy shouted, his voice cracking through the chamber.

He slammed his wand into the center of the magic array, the runes flaring to life with a burst of blinding light. The ground beneath them trembled, and the air grew thick with the hum of unstable magic. The array pulsed once, twice, and then—

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[Gilderoy Lockhart's POV]

I'm falling.

The air is rushing past me, screaming in my ears. The world above me is a blur of blue sky and something dark. Something huge. The Basilisk.

Wait—where am I?

I blink, trying to clear the haze from my mind, but everything spins. My head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, and there's a dull, throbbing ache at the back of my skull. I try to move, but my limbs feel sluggish, definitely mana exhaustion. Satoru… where is he? The Sentinels—where—?

Thud.

The impact knocks the breath out of me as I crash onto something hard and unyielding. The ground. Yes, I've hit the ground. The pain radiates from my head down to my spine, making my vision explode into bursts of light. I can't—can't focus. My thoughts are sloshing around, like water in a tipped bucket. Where am I? Why is everything spinning?

The Basilisk!

I try to push myself up, but my body isn't cooperating. My arms feel like jelly, and my head is pounding so hard that I swear I can feel my pulse in my ears. I blink furiously, but the world remains a distorted mess of colors and shapes. The Basilisk. The Sentinels. They were with me. We were… we were fighting… weren't we?

The ground feels rough beneath my fingers. I can't see properly—everything is fuzzy, like looking through a foggy lens. I squint, trying to make sense of the blurred shapes around me. Shadows, figures… people? There are people around me. Why are there people?

My head is ringing—loud, incessant, like church bells tolling inside my skull. I feel nauseous. I can't think. There's something important—something I'm supposed to be doing, but I can't for the life of me remember what it is. My vision swims, the shapes shifting, moving. A blur of red, bright and fast.

Something slithers. The Basilisk. It's here. I can hear it hissing, feel the weight of its presence nearby. My chest tightens with fear. My heart stutters, then races. I need to get up. I need to do something.

A figure in red—moving toward the Basilisk. Wait—no, no, no!

"DON'T LOOK INTO ITS EYES OR YOU DIE!"

Did I just shout that? I think I did. My voice sounds wrong, distorted, like it's echoing from underwater. My vision fades, slipping into a dark, swirling abyss. Everything is blurry. I try to focus, try to fight the pull of unconsciousness, but I'm so tired. So tired.

Everything goes black.

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How long was I out?

I don't know. I can feel something beneath me now—solid, but moving. Am I… being carried? The world around me is still blurry, shifting in and out of focus, but I can make out vague shapes. A ceiling—above me. Lights. Bright. Too bright.

I try to turn my head, but it feels too heavy, like my neck is made of lead. Something's not right. My limbs won't respond properly. There's a tightness around my arms and legs, something holding me down.

A stretcher? Am I on a stretcher? Am I in a hospital?

Panic flares up in my chest, sharp and sudden. I try to sit up, but I can't move. I'm tied down. My thoughts are fuzzy, still sloshing around uselessly, but there's a primal fear rising inside me. I'm restrained. Why am I restrained?

I blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog from my mind, but everything is still spinning. Blurry figures move around me—people, I think. They're carrying me somewhere. Talking. I can't make out the words, just a dull, distant hum.

I'm in danger. I don't know why, but my mind is screaming at me to act. I'm in danger. My wand—it's not in my hand. I can't reach it. Can't use it.

Something shifts in my head—an instinct. Desperation. Without thinking, I pull on the only thing I can still grasp—my reality marble. My mind reaches for it, trying to summon something, anything. My thoughts are too scattered, too weak to focus, but the reality marble reacts.

I project something. I don't know what I did but,

There's a sudden burst of energy around me. The figures holding me stumble back, shouting in surprise. I hear something clatter to the ground, but I can't see what it is. My vision is still swimming, but I think I see… a flash of red. A man in red. And then the blackness pulls me under again.

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The next time I wake, my head isn't ringing. At least, not as much as before. The pain is still there, a dull throb behind my eyes, but it's bearable. I blink, slowly this time, letting my vision adjust.

The first thing I notice is the ceiling. It's smooth, sterile, like something out of a science fiction novel. Not Hogwarts. Definitely not Hogwarts.

I sit up—slowly, carefully—my body protesting the movement with stiff soreness. The room around me is… strange. It's like no cell I've ever seen. The walls are smooth, metallic, but it's the front wall that catches my attention. It's not a wall at all. It's a blue, transparent barrier. There's no door. No bars. Just that eerie blue light.

I reach for my wand, instinctively trying to apparate out of this place. Nothing happens.

"What?"

I try again, focusing harder, but still—nothing. It's like the magic is being blocked. My heart sinks. A prison that blocks magic. This is bad. This is very, very bad.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep the rising panic at bay. Think, Gilderoy. Think. What do I know? Where am I? What happened?

The last thing I remember—the Basilisk. The Sentinels. The teleportation spell. It misfired. And then… falling. I must've blacked out after we hit the ground. But where am I now? This place—it's too advanced for the wizarding world. Too… high-tech.

I hear footsteps.

"You can't escape from here," the man says, his voice calm but firm.

I glance up and see a man standing on the other side of the blue barrier. He's tall, with dark skin and an eyepatch covering his left eye. He's wearing a long black coat, and there's an air of authority around him.

I blink, my mind still sluggish. He looks familiar, but my thoughts are still too jumbled to place him. I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, another voice speaks up from beside him.

"This cell was designed by Doctor Strange himself. You're not going anywhere."

I turn my head slowly and see the figure standing beside the man in the black coat. Now that my head is clear I can now clearly see the man in red. He's wearing red and blue, with a webbed mask over his face. The outfit is unmistakable.

Spiderman.