Cassandra's Pride (12,000 Words)

The History of Magic course remained simple and dry, and Professor Binns' hypnotic tone was an excellent choice for helping one fall asleep.

Even Hermione, who is usually a Academic Bully, started to droop her eyelids and keep her cheeks up.

There's no way around it, Professor Binns is just... too hypnotic.

However, it's also possible that the scheduler did this on purpose, since Gryffindor have to attend Astronomy Class with their Ravenclaw classmates around 11 p. m. on Tuesday nights.

Astronomy Class are usually held from 11 p. m. to midnight. After all, you can't have a star-gazing class during the day and have all the students staring at the sun with their eyes open, can you?

From this perspective, the schedule is quite thoughtful, at least there is reasonable time to catch up on sleep in the afternoon.

Professor Binns didn't care if students slept or slacked off in class; he only cared about whether he could finish reading his own lectures from the book.

"I think we should invent a Charms," Ron muttered as class ended, "A Charms that will make us fall asleep in class."

"Can't Professor Binns ' tone even put you to sleep, Ron?" Seamus asked, puzzled. "To be honest, I was sleeping soundly in class just now..."

"I really want to sleep, but ask Hermione!" Ron said, sounding aggrieved. "Every time Hermione gets sleepy and nods over, she pinches me really hard. Good heavens... why doesn't she pinch herself when she's sleepy?"

"Because pinching you doesn't hurt, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron puffed out his cheeks, secretly vowing to repay the favor tenfold if he ever had the chance!

Oh my god, it feels awful to be bullied by Hermione!

The next day, Wednesday morning, there was only one class, which was the Charms Class scheduled for 11:00 a. m.

After yesterday's Defense Against the Dark Arts, the students have gained a basic understanding of the Inferi, a Dark Arts creation.

To deal with the Inferi, you need to use fire-based Charms.

Professor Flitwick had originally planned to continue teaching the students how to use the Marking Spell in this lesson, but Hermione raised her hand high.

"Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick said, pleased that someone had raised their hand, "What's your problem?"

"Well, Professor," Hermione said, "We encountered Inferi in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Lockhart showed us in detail Inferi weaknesses—attacking Inferi with fire-type Charms can deal many times more damage. So I was wondering if you could teach us some fire-type spells?"

Hermione certainly knew about fire-related Charms; in fact, she burned Professor Snape's robes during her first-year Quidditch class.

This broke Professor Snape's heart; that robe was a gift from Lily —and even after wearing it for so many years, he still couldn't bear to replace it with a new one.

Professor Flitwick's mouth was agape, seemingly not having heard what Hermione said, or perhaps unable to believe that Professor Lockhart would actually send second-year students to try and deal with the Inferi.

After a long pause, he hesitantly asked, "What?"

Hermione repeated herself.

"Good heavens, I should have told Albus long ago that Professor Lockhart might not be fit to be a professor—what does he think Defense Against the Dark Arts is? Some kind of adventure?" Professor Flitwick exclaimed angrily. "He even brought Inferi into the classroom to lecture second-year students... Good heavens, does he expect second-year students to have the guts to deal with Inferi?"

"Um, Professor," said Padma Patil of Ravenclaw, raising her hand, "In fact, Seamus Finnegan of Gryffindor has already proven himself; he is fully capable of handling an Inferi."

This girl is Parvati Patil's Twins sister from Gryffindor, but strangely enough, Twins don't live in the same house, something the Weasley family Twins have always wanted to figure out.

"Yes, Professor," Anthony Goldstein, also Ravenclaw, raised his hand and said, "Even though the spell wasn't quite powerful enough, it still blew up the Inferi's face, and one of its eyes even landed on Slytherin's desk—"

These words caused a burst of laughter in the classroom.

Everyone disliked Slytherin, and after mentioning the embarrassing Slytherin they had made, they all began to gloat.

The Ravenclaw students then told Professor Flitwick about Lockhart's statement that he was only responsible for teaching how to deal with Dark Arts and Dark Arts creations, but that the learning of Charms still required Professor Flitwick's instruction.

"Oh, I see." Professor Flitwick nodded knowingly. "I understand now—it seems I still need to communicate with Professor Lockhart to align the teaching schedule and teach everyone some corresponding and appropriate Charms."

He wasn't unhappy at all; on the contrary, he was quite happy.

Good heavens, Merlin above, has Hogwarts finally gotten a qualified Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?

At that moment, Professor Flitwick's eyes welled up with tears.

"In that case," Professor Flitwick said again, "We will learn a new Charms in this lesson, the Fire-Making Spell."

He jumped up and down, looked around at his classmates, and asked, "So, who can tell me about the Fire-Making Spell?"

Many students in the classroom raised their hands.

"It seems everyone has done their homework... Well, Miss Patil— " said Professor Flitwick.

However, to Professor Flitwick's surprise, two people who looked exactly alike stood up.

One is from Gryffindor, and the other is from Ravenclaw.

Professor Flitwick chuckled lightly and said again, "Very well, Miss Patil of Ravenclaw."

Parvati sat down, leaving the opportunity to her sisters.

"The Fire-Making Spell, also known as the Fire-Making Spell, is a spell that summons a jet of flame, which can be used to ignite things," Patil said loudly. "Miranda Gossack describes it in the Standard Book of Spells as follows: 'From lighting a warm fireplace to setting off Christmas pudding, the Fire-Making Spell has always been very useful in wizarding families. However, this ability to start a fire with a flick of the wand can pose a danger to your classmates (or worse, your books).'"

"Excellent, Ravenclaw five points," Professor Flitwick said, waving his hand. "Anyone else have something to add? About the Fire-Making Spell?"

Neville raised his hand.

Professor Flitwick gestured for him to answer the question.

"Furthermore, the Fire-Making Spell is the bane of the Devil's Snare," Neville stood up and replied. "Professor Sprout mentioned this in our first-year Herbology Class."

"Very good, excellent!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed. "Five points added to Gryffindor!"

Impartial and unbiased, these are the heads of the three houses besides Snape.

Sometimes, having too high moral standards might not be a good thing for House Points...

However, Professor Snape stated that as long as I have no morals, there are no moral problems—

"I need to warn you beforehand that Blazing Flames is a high-level spell; once cast, the flames are very difficult to control. The incantation produces an explosive sound, accompanied by a flying orange fireball scattering in all directions," Professor Flitwick said in a high-pitched voice. "Furthermore, this spell cannot penetrate the darkness created by Peru- imported invisibility smoke bombs."

"Alright, now I'll start teaching you how to cast the Fire-Making Spell. Pay attention to my hand gestures and the trajectory of my wand—" Professor Flitwick said, using the Marking Charms to flick upwards in the air like writing an "A," then pulling downwards, and finally drawing a semi-circle upwards.

"This is the exact trajectory." Professor Flitwick drew the arrow marking the wand's movement again. "See, this is it... The spell is Incendio (Blazing Flames)."

"Alright, now listen to my instructions," Professor Flitwick spoke again, waving his wand to conjure a fireproof barrier in front of the students. "Everyone, follow my movements, draw lines like the path I've drawn, and then recite the spell..."

"Incendio (Blazing Flames)!"

On their first attempt, several students successfully summoned a few tiny Mars.

"Beautiful! This is a good start, a good start!" Professor Flitwick praised the students with great enthusiasm.

Before the words were finished, a loud explosion was heard.

Professor Flitwick was startled and nearly fell off the table, but managed to regain his balance.

He looked in the direction of the explosion and saw that the protective shield between Seamus and Neville was shattered. Their faces were blackened, their hair was in a mess, and they stared blankly ahead with vacant eyes.

Neville looked up and exhaled a black smoke ring.

"I think we need a new protective shield, Professor," he said pitifully.

Professor Flitwick was used to it; whenever he taught a new spell, he would always see Seamus add a little bit of explosive element to the spell.

He was well aware of Seamus's potential with the Exploding Charm, but teaching this young wizard the Exploding Charm was not a good idea.

Blowing up the school is a minor issue; what if it kills or injures the students?

"Watch this!" Ron flicked his wand. "Blazing Flames!"

The tip of the wand crackled and sparked, but no flame appeared.

Unconvinced, Ron continued to swing his wand, trying to throw out some flame.

But as it turns out, you can't unleash the Charms just by working hard.

"Stop, stop right now!" Hermione grabbed Ron's arm. "You're going to poke someone's eye out like that—and I need to correct you, there's something wrong with your pronunciation—it's incendio, not incendo. You're missing an 'i'!"

Ron pursed his lips, but still humbly accepted Hermione's correction.

There was no other way; he couldn't very well fight Hermione, could he?

As Harry listened to Ron, a scene involuntarily flashed through his mind...

For example... Voldemort is casting Avada Kedavra.

Hermione suddenly appeared and grabbed Voldemort: "Stop, stop right now! You're going to gouge people out of their eyes!—Also, I need to correct you, it's Avada Kedavra, not @#!￥%..."

With that thought in mind, Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud.

When class ended, Harry couldn't hold it in any longer. He sat in the middle of the Great Hall, leaning on the table and laughing uncontrollably, his shoulders twitching.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron asked, puzzled. He didn't know what made his friend so happy.

Harry then recounted the scene he had just imagined to Ron and Simonaway.

They couldn't help themselves and burst into a deafening laugh as well.

"My God, Harry," Neville said, wiping away tears of laughter, "I really—I really didn't expect you to be so funny..."

"What are you talking about? Do you think I'm usually that serious?" Harry asked, displeased.

"Oh, no," Ron said, rubbing his stomach. "I just found it funny."

Just then, the Weasley twins walked over, looking excited.

The two of them squeezed between Ron's left and right, whispering to them, "Oh God, I should apologize to Mom."

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, puzzled. "Why do you suddenly want to be Mommy's good boys?"

"You're Mommy's good baby, Ronnie little darling," the twins said in unison.

Then Fred said, "You know, we didn't realize what an insightful witch Mom was until we took Professor Lockhart's class—"

"My God, Professor Lockhart is so cool! Do you know what he got for us in class?" George asked, his eyes shining.

"What is it?" Ron picked up a chicken leg. "It's not Inferi, is it? Like us—"

"No, it's Acromantula," Fred said.

George quickly added, "Yes, it's the XXXXX-level creature as labeled by the Ministry of Magic. It's really big, about the size of Dad's car, or even bigger."

Upon hearing the twins' description, Ron, biting into his chicken leg, stared blankly into space.

He was terrified of spiders, and his imagination was exceptional. After the twins described it, Ron felt the terrifying image of the Acromantula instantly appear in his mind.

"Acromantula," Fred whispered in Ron's ear, mimicking the feeling of its furry coat. "Ronnie little darling, just imagine it... those eight eyes... that furry body... those clicking claws..."

"Ugh..." Ron dropped the chicken leg, let out a frightened little cry, and leaped backward, trying to get away from his two unscrupulous brothers.

However, it was no use; his two older brothers held him down from both sides.

"What are you going to do, Ronnie little darling?" George chuckled. "How about your brothers take you to see the Acromantula? I heard there are some in the Forbidden Forest..."

Ron shook his head quickly; he never wanted to see spiders in his life.

Harry never really understood why Ron was so afraid of spiders, after all, he had already witnessed the diversity of arachnids in the Dursley family ' cubicle.

It can only be said that people's joys and sorrows are not very shared.

"Acromantula?" Hermione suddenly asked. "Does Professor Lockhart really provide different teaching materials every school year? I thought he would provide you with Inferi as well."

"He actually wanted to use Inferi, but I heard it was destroyed by your Seamus," George shrugged. "I heard the eyeballs were blown off, which was really unsightly and might scare us, so he switched to Acromantula."

"I see," Hermione said knowingly. "But it's not surprising, considering the Inferi's bloody and mangled face... it's really not suitable to continue using it as a teaching tool."

"But as I just said, I really should apologize to Mom and Professor Lockhart," the twins chuckled. "I have to admit, Professor Lockhart fulfills my ideal of a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor —if he could just stop showing off his adventures, he would be the perfect Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"But we can't ask for more," the two said again.

"He is indeed very dedicated." Harry nodded in agreement with the twins' statement.

In the afternoon's Transfiguration Class, Professor McGonagall began teaching them the key points for the new semester.

She was still dressed in a dark green robe, impeccably dressed—just like her personality.

"Today we will learn the new semester's content." Professor McGonagall stood on the high platform. "However, you may be disappointed that this semester we will not be teaching you any more advanced Transfiguration techniques. What I need to let you know is that Transfiguration is a gradual system of Charms. I hope you can learn step by step, rather than forcing yourself to learn knowledge that is not your age."

Harry understood that Professor McGonagall was implying something, expressing her dissatisfaction with Professor Lockhart's live demonstration and explanation of various Magical Creatures or Dark Arts creations with a danger level of 5X to the students.

Professor McGonagall's concerns were indeed valid, given that none of the magical creatures Professor Lockhart had demonstrated so far had fallen below the 5X level.

Learning Defense Against the Dark Arts is one thing, but Transfiguration is a rigorous subject. For most wizards, it is impossible to skip any part of the process and leap from the first step to the sixth.

Unless one is a born Transfiguration genius, but such people are extremely rare.

Professor McGonagall did speak to Professor Dumbledore about it, but the Headmaster's attitude was strange; it was neither clear that he supported Professor Lockhart nor opposed him.

"Alright, for the first lesson of the semester, you'll learn how to turn a beetle into a button." Professor McGonagall's voice was steady. She took out a six-legged beetle struggling rapidly and placed it on the podium. "Watch closely. I'll only demonstrate once. Imagine what a button looks like, and strongly imagine that you must turn the beetle into a button—three, two, one, Vera Verto!"

A magical scene unfolded: under Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration, the beetle transformed into a black button.

She picked up the button and passed it around among her classmates to look at it.

"What you'll be practicing in this lesson is how to turn beetles into buttons." Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and a bunch of small boxes flew out from the podium, each containing a beetle that was about to be turned into a button.

"I need to remind you not to underestimate this lesson," Professor McGonagall said loudly. "This is Transfiguration that turns a living thing into an inanimate one, and it actually changes the nature of the object—once the beetle is Transfiguration Transfiguration a button, it is no longer a beetle. If you try to feed this button to Neville's toad as a beetle, it may die from indigestion."

She told a corny joke, and everyone laughed, except for Neville.

Neville actually thought seriously about the terrible fate that would befall Trevor after he ate the button, and for a moment he felt a pang of sympathy.

Professor McGonagall went over the key points of Transfiguration several more times—in fact, Professor McGonagall repeated them in every single lesson.

Although the core content of each lesson is similar, it still requires constant reinforcement of memory in order to subtly influence the young wizard's mind.

Professor McGonagall walked over to Harry and saw that he had turned the beetle into a metal button with Gryffindor lion markings on it, which was quite exquisite.

"Very good, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded in approval to Harry. "Excellent Transfiguration, five points for Gryffindor."

"Professor, I have a question," Harry suddenly said.

Professor McGonagall's serious expression softened. Seeing Harry's green eyes, she couldn't help but think of the lovable Lily.

"Go ahead and say it, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall nodded.

"Professor, as we saw in our first year, you are an Animagus." Harry carefully chose his words, trying to sound as non-offensive as possible. "I know your Animagus form is a cat, so may I ask, when you transform into a cat, do you have the urge to eat mice?"

As he spoke, Harry reached out and grabbed Scabbers.

Scabbers struggled in Harry's hands, squeaking and trying to escape Potter's clutches.

Professor McGonagall's face twitched strangely. She looked at Harry, only to find that his green eyes were full of sincerity.

Hmm... it seems this kid really does resemble Lily, not a brat like James.

"How could you think that, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall said. "Even if I were to become a cat through the Animagus, I wouldn't eat mice, because I am still a human being at heart."

"I see." Harry nodded repeatedly. "So, there aren't any other preferences related to cats?"

"No," Professor McGonagall nodded seriously.

Harry suddenly felt a little down.

Pabbie...

How come he didn't notice this? Even if Pabbie turned into Unicorn, he wouldn't like eating grass...

Yes, Pabbie is a human, how could he have Unicorn preference?

"I have a question too, Professor," Ron asked, raising his hand.

He felt a little envious when he saw Harry always asking questions that made the professors think seriously or were beyond their ability to answer.

Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was Ron, not Harry, who was asking the question.

Thank goodness it wasn't Mr. Potter.

She was genuinely worried that Harry would come up with some strange or unusual questions for her.

"Go ahead," she said.

"If the Dark Wizard turned this huge desk into a chicken leg and made me swallow it," Ron patted the desk in front of him, "Would my stomach burst from the desk when the Transfiguration wore off? Or, could I tempt the Dark Wizard to eat this chicken leg?"

Professor McGonagall clutched her collar, breathing heavily.

"Good heavens, Mr. Weasley..." Professor McGonagall said, trembling, "How could you, how could you even think of such a thing?"

Ron's heart skipped a beat, realizing that he might not have asked the right question.

"I must remind you, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said seriously, "Don't be led astray by your two Twins brothers! Furthermore, the five exceptions to the Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration tell us that what cannot be eaten cannot be turned into food!"

"Yes, Professor," Ron said, bowing his head dejectedly.

The news about Ron's Transfiguration Class spread quickly, and the Weasley family Twins found out about it during dinner.

"My goodness, Ronnie little darling." Fred was the first to affirm him. "You're such a good little brother, my goodness, that's a brilliant and wonderful idea... For the first time, I feel like you're our little brother, not some little rascal that Mom picked up from some garbage dump."

"You're the ones Mom picked up." Ron rolled his eyes. He was already twelve years old and wouldn't believe his two older brothers' nonsense anymore.

You should know that when he was seven years old, he actually believed his two older brothers when they said that.

He went to his father crying for help, and after glaring at his two older brothers, his father immediately began to scold them.

But after hearing the scolding, Ron cried even harder.

Dad said...

"My God! Fred! George! Why did you tell him the truth! Ron is so young! He's only seven! How could you do such a thing!"

Ron doesn't remember how long he cried, but that evening at dinner, his father, Fred, and George all hung their heads and accepted their mother's scolding.

"Shame on you, who is it that's crying and running to their father?" Fred reached out and rubbed his cheek with his finger. "But your idea is pretty good, it's just a little... well, a little lacking. Let me think about how we can incorporate your prank idea into our trick."

With that, the Twins left the Great Hall laughing and joking.

"When you have two older brothers like that, you realize how tough childhood can be," Ron said to his friends with a shrug.

Hermione ignored Ron and quietly walked to Harry's side, whispering, "Harry, Harry?"

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Could you take me with you tonight?" Hermione asked, then, realizing her words were a bit ambiguous, she grinned sheepishly, showing her bunny teeth, and added, "I mean, I want to go with you to Professor Lockhart's office to help him write a reply."

"This..." Harry actually wanted to bring her along, since writing a reply was such a torturous task.

"I'm afraid that won't work, Miss Granger," Professor Lockhart's voice suddenly appeared.

Hermione turned around in surprise when she heard it was Lockhart, but at the same time she was a little disappointed.

"My dear, I can't always have Harry write letters for me, can I?" Professor Lockhart winked at her as he spoke. "The next time I need to write back to my fans, I'm afraid I'll have to rely on you, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said happily.

"Well then, Harry," Professor Lockhart said affectionately, "don't forget our agreement for tonight; I've been waiting for your help—"

"Harry, Harry? How are you?" Colin's voice rang out from the side at just the right moment.

"Come on, let your little fan take a picture with us." Professor Lockhart chuckled, putting his arm around Harry's neck, and said to Colin, "Mr. Creevey, what are you waiting for?"

The shutter clicked, Colin gave an OK sign.

"Alright, then I'll be waiting for you in my office tonight, Harry."

After Lockhart finished speaking, he left with a smile and walked to the professor's seat.

Harry followed Professor Lockhart's retreating figure and met Professor Snape's deep black eyes, which were looking in his direction.

Noticing Harry's gaze, Professor Snape gave him an extremely disgusted look.

Harry instantly understood the meaning behind that look—to associate with someone like that is truly depraved, Potter!

Harry shrugged, feeling a little overwhelmed by the old professor's sudden display of concern.

Let's just ignore it!

After dinner, Harry returned to the Gryffindor Common Room.

After quickly packing his belongings, such as Ageing Potion drugs and Two-way mirror, Harry left the Gryffindor Common Room.

As he was leaving, he suddenly felt something was off. Why did he have a wallet but not these things with him?

He couldn't help but laugh at himself, and continued walking toward Professor Lockhart's office.

When he was halfway there, he thought he heard someone whispering.

He looked up; the voice seemed to be above him, or perhaps beside him, but it was difficult to pinpoint its exact location.

Harry flicked his wand and used the "Reveal the True Revealing Charm.

But the Charms detected nothing.

"Perhaps it's a ghost," he thought, as he strode toward Professor Lockhart's office.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's office is at the back of the classroom; it's located up the stairs inside the classroom.

Harry knocked on the door, and after receiving permission from Professor Lockhart, he pushed the door open and entered.

The spacious office was filled with letters and packages from various fans.

Countless framed photos of Lockhart hung on the walls, brightly lit by many candles, some even bearing his signature, and a large stack of photographs lay on the table.

"Ah, our the Savior has arrived!" Professor Lockhart seemed perpetually full of enthusiasm. "Come in, Harry, please come in."

Harry stared in disbelief at the piles of letters and packages in the room. To be honest, even if the room were filled with Galleon, it wouldn't have surprised him this much... but this was the first time he had ever seen so many letters.

Seemingly noticing Harry's astonishment, Professor Lockhart smiled.

"You really can't resist the enthusiasm of your fans, can you?" He smiled and winked at Harry, then reached for the eye drops on the table and put them in his eyes twice.

"Professor, what's going on?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"This is a potion to keep my eyes healthy," Lockhart chuckled softly. "After all, you know these eyes represent countless Galleon and the possibility of continued adventure, don't you?"

Harry felt he couldn't respond to that, so he nodded and said, "Yes, Professor."

As they were talking, an owl gently tapped on the window outside.

Professor Lockhart opened the window and reached out to take the letter from the owl's beak.

He opened the letter; inside was a letter and a lock of hair.

"Why is there still hair?" Harry asked curiously.

Professor Lockhart chuckled and stuffed his hair back into the envelope, saying helplessly, "You know, Harry, many die-hard fans don't want to reason with you. All we can do is smile and accept any 'good intentions' they have."

As he spoke, Professor Lockhart let out a soft sigh.

"Then you may write an envelope," Lockhart said to Harry, as if it were some great honor for Harry. "The first one is for Lady Gladys, God bless her—one of my most ardent admirers."

Harry didn't really care whether the work was tiring or not, since he was just idling around anyway—and he also wanted to take this opportunity to contact Bodric.

"Remember, Harry, fame is a fickle friend," Professor Lockhart scribbled on the paper with his Quill. "As your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, it's necessary for me to impart some lessons on being famous."

He looked up and said with a sigh, "It's really hard to be a celebrity, Harry. First of all, you have to remember that a celebrity has to have the airs of a celebrity—you are the Savior of the Magical World, and you shouldn't get too close to your fans, especially fanatics like Mr. Creevey."

"Why, Professor?" Harry asked modestly. He genuinely admitted that Professor Lockhart was indeed more adept at being a celebrity.

"Don't ask why, Harry," Professor Lockhart said with a chuckle. "Such enthusiastic fans have no sense of boundaries. What you need to be careful about is maintaining a distance between you. That's the only way to make your relationship—or rather, his affection for you—last longer."

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and that's always been the case," he added.

"It seems you are very experienced," Harry complimented sincerely.

Professor Lockhart seemed to enjoy Harry's compliment, chuckling as he brushed his chin with his Quill and a satisfied smile spread across his face.

Inside the room, candles flickered and burned, illuminating the entire space, their light dancing on the many moving Lockhart faces that were watching them.

Just as Harry was counting the envelopes of his hundredth letter, he suddenly heard a sound—a sound completely different from the crackling of a dying candle or Professor Lockhart's soft whispers.

It was a cold, vicious, chilling voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"Come... come here... let me tear you apart... rip you apart... kill you..."

Harry was startled; he felt that the voice... seemed familiar?

It felt like I'd heard it somewhere before, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Professor, did you hear a sound?" Harry asked tentatively.

Lockhart glanced at Harry, then at the candle beside him, and shook his head, saying, "No, Harry —did you hear something?"

"Hmm... it must be an illusion?" Harry shrugged.

Professor Lockhart stared at Harry for a while, seemingly trying to deduce something from his expression.

Unfortunately, he failed.

Could it be... that this Mr. Potter can hear things that ordinary people cannot hear?

Lockhart ... no, Vera muttered to herself. She knew that in this world, there were wizards who could see things that ordinary people could not see and hear sounds that ordinary people could not hear.

Like her husband, Gellert Grindelwald, whom the Saints follow, he was born with the ability to foresee the future and see what ordinary people cannot see.

Could it be that Mr. Potter is the same?

No wonder the gentleman asked me to keep an eye on this Mr. Potter; it seems... the gentleman foresaw something...

Vera thought to herself, "I must win Mr. Potter over to the Saints." On one hand, she wanted to poach Dumbledore's Golden Boy and see how he reacted; on the other hand, she also felt that Mr. Potter was calm and composed, and had outstanding abilities. If he were to be trained by Mr. Potter, he would surely become a pillar of the Saints.

Or... will he become the master's successor?

Vera became increasingly certain of her discovery, believing that the Master must have discovered something in the long river of time to send her to Hogwarts.

If Mr. hadn't been defeated by that despicable Dumbledore and willingly confined to Nurmengard Castle, perhaps he would have been the one to come to Hogwarts this time.

"Perhaps you're feeling sleepy," Professor Lockhart said in a relaxed tone. "It seems we've had a pleasant two hours. If you don't mind, you can stay here a little longer; I still have some work I'd like to ask you to do."

As he spoke, Lockhart extended his wand and took out several bottles of Potions from a bag beside him.

"This is Draught of Living Death, Harry," Professor Lockhart said with a chuckle. "It's a Potions that can potentially make the drinker's mind clearer. If you've previewed the fourth-year Potions Class, you should know about this Potions."

He handed Harry the bottles of Potions: "This is your reward for helping me write those envelopes. After all, you've worked so hard, haven't you?"

"Thank you, Professor." Without saying a word, Harry put the potions in his pocket.

Getting paid for your work is a matter of course.

Harry stayed in Professor Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for a while longer, and just as he saw the clock pointing to 8:30, Professor Lockhart's voice rang out again.

"Harry, do you remember my ideal birthday present?"

"What? Professor?" Harry didn't hear clearly.

"My ideal birthday present," Professor Lockhart repeated, a regretful expression on his face, "Is mentioned in Chapter Twelve of ' A Weekend with the Werewolf,' which I also mentioned in the last class."

Harry tried hard to recall, and finally remembered the content of that lesson.

"Your ideal birthday present would be for all people, whether they have magic or not, to live in harmony, if I remember correctly," Harry replied.

"Very good, it seems you still remember." Professor Lockhart smiled again. "Yes, this ideal—is it difficult to achieve?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry nodded, "That is indeed a difficult thing to achieve."

"So, what do you think of this ideal?" Professor Lockhart asked with a smile. "Don't be nervous, Harry. Just think of this as a casual chat between the two of us. I'm your friend."

"What do you mean, how do you see it?" Harry didn't know what Lockhart meant.

"Exactly, what do you think the relationship between wizards and Muggle should be like?" Professor Lockhart stared intently at Harry.

Harry thought for a moment, then smiled and said, "Shouldn't this be something a second-year student like me should be thinking about, Professor?"

"Haven't you ever complained about the existence of the Trace?" Lockhart's words were persuasive. "I know that young wizards your age are restless and want to use some magic during holidays, but the Ministry of Magic strictly restricts it, right? They're afraid you'll use magic in front of ordinary people—that is, Muggle —and expose the existence of the Magical World, right?"

"I'm alright, Professor."

Harry didn't answer Professor Lockhart's question directly; his intuition told him that Professor Lockhart might have had some other meaning behind asking it.

This intuition was something Cassandra had cultivated in him.

It should be said that most of his habits, even his intuitions, were cultivated by Cassandra.

What Harry didn't know was that Cassandra would occasionally look at him with great satisfaction and pride when he wasn't looking, just like Mrs. Weasley looked at Bill.

"I don't think the problem lies there," Harry said after a moment's thought. "I think the most pressing issue is the education of young wizards, such as their education in school—they're not just lacking in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but also in other subjects, they have one deficiency or another."

"Is that so?" Professor Lockhart looked at Harry, feeling that the young Harry in front of her... always had some of Mr. Harry's traits.

This pleased her even more. She had only wanted to test Harry's attitude toward the Wizarding Secrecy Law, but she was surprised to see Harry's maturity beyond his years.

"That's true. I've heard there are still many Auror who can't even fully cast the Protego," Harry said, somewhat distressed. "How can the Magical World become a better place with such teaching results?"

Vera was secretly delighted.

She recognized the little Harry in front of her...

It seems that they also have considerable opinions about Dumbledore, the Headmaster.

She felt somewhat satisfied; in this test, she seemed to have detected some of the results she wanted—of course, she should continue to test and win them over.

Why can't the golden boy that Dumbledore nurtured be taken by Mr. Dumbledore?

The more Vera thought about it, the more convinced he became that it should be this way.

(Vera Rosier and the parrot)

For some reason, she could never feel any liking for Dumbledore —and this aversion wasn't just because Dumbledore had defeated Gellert Grindelwald.

As for that lackey who assisted Dumbledore, what was his name again?

Oh, Newt Scamander.

Vera didn't dislike this person as much as he thought.

She looked surprised and stretched gracefully.

"Merlin's beard, look at the time! We've been here for almost four hours! I can't believe it—time flies, doesn't it?"

Vera, disguised as Professor Lockhart, smiled and said, "I think you should go back too. After all, a young wizard like you should get plenty of rest."

"Alright, goodbye then, Professor Lockhart." Harry stood up and stretched as well.

It turns out that stretching is contagious.

"Goodbye, Harry," Professor Lockhart said with a smile.

After leaving the Defense Against the Dark Arts Office, Harry hurried to the Room of Requirement.

He thought to himself that he needed a meeting room, and then pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement.

Sitting in his Gryffindor seat, he twisted open the Ageing Potion, took a small sip, and casually enlarged his clothes.

A short while later, a seventeen-year-old Harry appeared in the same spot.

He opened the Two-way mirror and sent a signal to Bodric.

Soon, Bodric's face appeared in the Two-way mirror.

"Mr. Potter!" he said respectfully.

"Hello, Bodric." Harry nodded. "Do you have any news about the Angel Feather and the Basilisk Fang?"

Bodric looked troubled. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, despite Gringotts' best efforts, we haven't found any information about these two materials."

Harry tapped his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

"I have heard some news about Angel Feather," he said.

"Please speak, Mr. Potter," Bodric said immediately. "Gringotts will certainly get it for you."

"It's just not a good idea. This person..." Harry tapped the armrest, "The person who has the Angel Feather might not be willing to listen to Gringotts."

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter," Bodric said quickly. "Whoever it is, they'll have to give Gringotts some face."

"Then, what if the person refuses to sell?" Harry asked with a chuckle.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter," Bodric said with a sinister smile. "Gringotts will find a way to make him sell it! Just tell us who it is! Leave the rest to Gringotts."

"Oh." Harry nodded and said to Bodric, "You should also know this person who holds the Angel Feather. He is the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore."

Upon hearing Harry's words, Bodric's expression suddenly froze.

He initially thought the person holding the Angel Feather was an ordinary wizard, but he never expected it to be Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

this...

This will make things difficult.

Who is Dumbledore?

President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Archmage of Wizengamot, the most powerful White Wizard in the world...

Gringotts may be arrogant, but they wouldn't dare cause trouble in front of Dumbledore.

Seeing Bodric's troubled expression, Harry calmly asked, "Is it difficult, Mr. Bodric?"

Upon hearing Harry's words, Bodric quietly swallowed.

While Headmaster Dumbledore was certainly not someone to be trifled with, the Goblin assassin before them was someone they couldn't afford to mess with either.

Heaven knows how many Goblin died at his hands a hundred years ago...

If we mess up Mr. Potter's plans, who knows what kind of wrath we'll face.

"Don't worry!" Bodric, choosing the lesser of two evils, gritted his teeth and said, "Gringotts will communicate with Headmaster Dumbledore and get the Angel Feather for you as soon as possible!"

"Thank you," Harry said very politely. "I hope you won't put me in too much trouble?"

Bodric replied without hesitation, "No! How could it be difficult? Not at all!"

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