After Fred and George had calmed down a little, the six of them quietly returned to the third floor.
Including Vincent, none of them had heard that voice.
"No magical items." Holding the Alder Wand, he swept the entire office door twice.
"Going in?" George looked at the doorknob.
"Remember to keep it down." Hermione unusually took hold of it herself.
Vincent shrugged at Cedric and Rolf.
It had not quite reached the point of love turning into hate, but it was very close.
By the faint light at the tip of her wand, Hermione's first reaction was nausea.
Just how narcissistic did someone have to be to plaster their own photos all over the walls?
The Alder Wand swept the place inside and out twice more, but still found no trace of magic.
"Going in?" Hermione's small hand rested on the bedroom doorknob.
The five boys glanced at each other. They all knew she would not give up unless she went inside.
She extinguished her wand, gently opened the door, and walked in.
A lit diffuser sat on the table beside the bed, its faint orange glow barely illuminating the room's layout.
Vincent sniffed and discovered it was an expensive sleep aid.
He looked inside, and the first thing he saw was Lockhart, whose sleeping posture was fairly decent.
But no matter how proper it was, Hermione still found it "an eyesore."
The walls were still covered in photographs, showing Lockhart posing with various famous wizards.
Vincent spotted an elderly wizard who looked suspiciously like Nicolas Flamel.
His clothes and appearance were quite similar, but he lacked that distinctive aura forged by the passage of time.
Rolf found a photograph of his grandfather, Newt Scamander.
Case closed. It was undoubtedly a fake.
Still, it was a high-quality imitation, and