Breakfast-Time Speech

That night, Scott lay in bed and carefully went over everything he had done over the past two days. After confirming once again that he hadn't left anything out of place, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Of course, although he was sure he wouldn't be found out, he wasn't completely at ease.

After all, this was Hogwarts, and their headmaster was Dumbledore. He couldn't use his shallow experience of only three years in the magical world to speculate about an old wizard hailed as the most powerful of the century.

Still, Scott was curious about one thing. If Dumbledore knew about all the things Jasmine Travers had done since arriving at Hogwarts, how would he react?

Jasmine Travers came from a Pure-blood family loyal to the Dark Lord. Her father was a notorious Death Eater who was now locked up in Azkaban. You could say she came from a long line of them.

What's more, Travers had far more potential than her father. She wasn't content with her father groveling at the Dark Lord's feet. She wanted to become the next Dark Lord herself.

What a pity.

Scott regretted that he wouldn't get to see Headmaster Dumbledore's expression.

He also wanted to know whether Dumbledore would grow wary of a little girl, as he had with Tom Riddle in the "original story."

Still, he thought that the so-called group of Pure-blood witches was probably finished. The professors who knew the truth would surely keep a close eye on those little Pure-blood witches.

But all of that was just his guesswork, and might not be accurate. All he had to do was wait patiently for the outcome.

At breakfast the next day, when Scott and his roommates arrived at the Great Hall, they saw that all the professors were seated at the High Table, including their headmaster, Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore might have some news for us," Eddie whispered excitedly. "He must have found out what made those three girls sick. I bet they've even cured them already!"

Scott wasn't sure what to make of Eddie's words.

If magic had caused the three girls to fall ill, he believed Dumbledore could deal with it quickly. But the wizards, who were always so arrogant toward Muggles, wouldn't think to look for a virus Scott had brought from the Muggle World.

So he guessed the only treatment the wizards could use was to strengthen the girls' constitutions with Potions or Charms and rely on their own immune systems to overcome the virus.

That meant the three girls wouldn't be leaving the hospital anytime soon.

As time went by, the students arrived at the Great Hall one after another. All the young witches and wizards sat at their house tables, whispering among themselves.

Dumbledore's presence seemed to have dispelled their fear. The students were generally much calmer than they had been the day before.

That was the influence Dumbledore had.

As long as he was there, people felt safe.

Clink, clink, clink.

Professor McGonagall tapped her silver spoon against her glass three times.

"Quiet."

Her stern gaze swept over the Great Hall, and it fell silent at once.

"Ahem."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and was about to speak when Lockhart suddenly stood up from the High Table.

"Hello, everyone!"

Lockhart grinned, showing off his neat, white teeth.

"I can see that many of you young witches and wizards are looking rather down. It pains Hogwarts' most popular professor—me, Professor Lockhart—to see it."

Lockhart was still wearing a brightly colored robe, his chin raised with an air of confidence.

Scott noticed that the other professors at the High Table were looking at Lockhart, who had suddenly jumped up, with indescribable expressions.

Professor Snape in particular looked at Lockhart as if he were a Flobberworm. His face was also terribly grim, as if he'd just seen a hundred Harry Potters smiling at him.

Professor McGonagall kept signaling to Headmaster Dumbledore, but Dumbledore seemed to want to say something and then thought better of it. For some reason, he didn't stop Lockhart from speaking.

"I know you're worried about what happened yesterday. But it seems you've forgotten that you don't actually need to worry."

Lockhart didn't notice the other professors' reactions at all. He was enthusiastically putting on a show.

"I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, honorary member of the Dark Arts Defense League, winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times—but I don't go around bragging about it. I don't drive away banshees with my smile!"

He repeated his famous line, then raised his chin high, apparently waiting for the students to react.

But he was disappointed. Nobody screamed or laughed, and even his most devoted admirers weren't in the mood to humor him.

"He's such an idiot," Roger muttered. "That moron who does nothing but grin—doesn't he know everyone's waiting for Dumbledore to tell us what happened?"

Nobody reacted, but Lockhart, standing at the High Table, didn't seem embarrassed at all.

"All right, all right, I know you're feeling low," he said with an affected sigh. "But you shouldn't forget that there happens to be a Dark Arts expert at the school right now."

He spread his hands with an air of helplessness. "Yes, I'm here too, so what do you have to worry about?"

He grinned again. "Don't worry, don't worry, young witches and wizards. This will all be resolved soon, I promise you..."

"Very good. Thank you for your remarks, Professor Lockhart."

Dumbledore finally stood up. He even gave Lockhart a light round of applause and nodded to him, signaling that he should sit down.

Lockhart's smile froze for a moment at being interrupted. Then he gave Dumbledore a showy bow. When he raised his head again, his smile had returned to normal.

"I know you're all concerned about what happened yesterday."

When Dumbledore began his speech, every student in the Great Hall listened attentively.

"Miss Rowle, Miss Avery, and Miss Travers fell ill for unknown reasons and were eventually sent to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."

Dumbledore spoke rather slowly. The anxious students were already craning their necks.

"Unfortunately, we still haven't found the cause of their illness, and we haven't yet come up with a targeted treatment."

At this, fear appeared on the faces of quite a few students.

Dumbledore continued, "But fortunately, none of the three young ladies are in any danger. According to the healers at St Mungo's, with conservative treatment, they should recover in three months. Then we'll all welcome them back to school together."

"So that's what happened! Thank Merlin!" Tears welled up in Milton's eyes again. "I thought... That's wonderful. So it wasn't a deadly illness after all..."

Many students cheered. They didn't stop until Professor McGonagall tapped her glass again.

"Although it isn't the worst news, don't forget that we still haven't found the cause."

Dumbledore pressed both hands down.

"I still hope that the students will remain vigilant. If anyone finds any relevant clues, please come to me or one of the other professors. I'm sure that neither I nor the other professors would hesitate to award points for the discovery."