Can't Hold It In Anymore! (Seeking Follow-up Reads)

Gilderoy Lockhart stood up and pushed through the crowd: "Make way, please, make way."

He rushed over, looking excited and fervent.

The greed, longing, and burning intensity in his eyes were so palpable they could almost scorch the skin.

He reached out, intending to grab Harry's arm and pull him into an embrace.

Harry stepped back, leaving him grasping at thin air.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry looked at him coldly.

Just as Professor Flitwick had said.

He was nothing but a hollow shell.

His perfume was pungent, and his magical power was pitifully thin.

He was barely any better than the wizard Harry had dealt with in Hogsmeade, the one who only knew how to shake down young wizards for money.

This gaze was like a bucket of cold water, cooling Lockhart down significantly, though he still flashed a dazzling smile: "Excellent wizards are always drawn to one another, aren't they?"

"Come now, Harry, let us take a photo to commemorate this great moment, guided by destiny!"

Harry remained indifferent, his face full of resistance: "If by destiny you mean holding book signings without sleep ever since the Hogwarts owl delivered your letter."

"And sending people to tail me, waiting for me to appear so they could report back to you immediately?"

Lockhart's expression stiffened, and he let out a dry laugh: "You truly are a proper Gryffindor, so humorous!"

Harry stepped closer to him.

Lockhart, thinking he had changed his mind, reached out to signal the photographer behind him.

Suddenly, a chill struck his waist.

Something was pressed against him, sharp enough to prick his skin.

He looked down.

It was a kitchen knife, its tip honed to a razor's edge.

"Professor Flitwick told me a few things about your past." Harry watched him calmly. "Do you want me to discuss them with you right here?"

Lockhart's body went rigid, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper: "What are you trying to do!"

A knife!

What was wrong with this young wizard, carrying such a dangerous object on his person?

And pressing it right against his waist.

Was he trying to kill him?

"We are only here to buy textbooks. You continue your signing, and don't involve me, alright?" Harry said softly, applying a slight pressure with his hand, the tip of the blade piercing through the fabric of his robes.

"Of course." Lockhart nodded hurriedly.

Harry immediately withdrew the knife.

Lockhart let out a sigh of relief, his body going limp; he stumbled twice before barely managing to stand upright.

"He really was waiting for you." Hermione was surprised, trotting along beside Harry, her voice lowered. "But how could that be? He shouldn't need to..."

Before she could finish her sentence.

Lockhart had already returned to his initial state, boasting to the surrounding crowd: "Our savior is just a shy little boy."

"He is unwilling to be exposed to the cameras; it is truly a regrettable thing."

The onlookers, mostly women, let out a chorus of disappointed sighs. They had just noticed that Potter was also quite handsome, possessing a wild beauty that Lockhart lacked.

If only he could be in the papers more often so they could see his picture more.

"However—" Lockhart drew out the tone, "I have some incredibly fortunate news to share with you all."

"I, Gilderoy Lockhart, internationally renowned..." He reeled off his long list of flamboyant titles, looking smug, his teeth flashing, "am honored to have received an invitation from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore to serve as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts starting this school year!"

"I shall take great care in teaching our little savior, the little Lion King of Gryffindor, how to become a proper, charming wizard."

Inside the shop.

Harry couldn't hold back any longer and drew his wand: "Relaxation Charm!"

A red light shot out.

It landed precisely on Lockhart—this "charming wizard" with a title longer than Dumbledore's name had no defenses prepared; his legs went weak, and he stumbled, crashing to the floor.

He didn't realize it was the effect of a spell, assuming instead that he had been startled by Harry, and scrambled to find an excuse.

"Harry!" Hermione, having witnessed the scene, let out a small gasp.

Harry remained expressionless, putting his wand away: "Sorry, I couldn't help it."

"He is indeed quite flamboyant." Hermione sighed. Seeing that the people outside weren't coming in to hold them accountable, but were instead fussing over Lockhart with concern, she relaxed. "I didn't expect him to be like this..."

"Just like a celebrity in the Muggle world."

Harry sighed in turn: "Defense Against the Dark Arts this year is another disaster. I suspect Professor Snape really stuffed a bezoar into Dumbledore's brain."

"Harry!" Hermione corrected his mistake, "You shouldn't say that about Professor Snape."

She also felt that Dumbledore's choice left something to be desired.

After buying their books, they went to the pet shop to buy the best owl feed for Hedwig—Hedwig looked at it with disdain, finding it far inferior to what Petunia made.

She only accepted it begrudgingly after pecking at Hermione a few times.

They sat in front of the ice cream parlor, waiting for Ron.

Harry flipped through one of Lockhart's books at random and, seeing a certain passage, looked surprised: "This Professor Lockhart of ours, he doesn't seem to be a complete fraud?"

Hermione was puzzled: "Hm?"

"Look at this." Harry pointed to the text and read aloud, "Werewolves who transform on the night of the full moon lose their sanity and attack those around them."

"But our dear readers, you must remember that the silver bullets superstitious Muggles believe in cannot kill them."

"I am charming and handsome..." Harry paused, skipping over that part, "There is a method to temporarily control a werewolf, and that is the Hominivicus Charm, which can force a werewolf to return to human form."

"Of course, your magical power must be greater than the opponent's, and after casting it, you must not let the werewolf see the moon again."

Hermione hesitated; once she lost trust in Lockhart, it was hard to regain: "That sounds incredible."

"I'll ask Professor Flitwick when I get back." Harry closed the book, turned his head, and cast his gaze behind him: "Ron, your footsteps are too heavy. If you want to pull a prank, you should ask your brothers for advice."

Behind them, Ron, who had been tiptoeing and looking excited to give Harry a scare, was instead startled by Harry and fell onto his bottom: "Oh, your ears are too sharp!"

"I already made my footsteps very, very light..."

Harry closed the book: "Why are you only just getting here?"

"Harry, Hermione, you should have come to Flourish and Blotts with us." Speaking of this, Ron grew excited and sat down in another chair, "My dad got into a fight with Malfoy!"

"Mr. Weasley has a habit of bullying children too?" Harry was stunned.

"Not Draco Malfoy, it was Lucius Malfoy, the elder Malfoy." Ron gestured wildly, describing the scene, "My dad beat him up so badly!"

"A left hook..."

Hermione waved her hand and sighed: "Today's luck really is terrible; Harry also nearly beat up Lockhart."

"Really?" Ron was even more excited, "Why only nearly? That fraud..."

"Actually, I did cast a spell." Harry corrected, "He just didn't notice, so a fight didn't break out."

"He is just too... flashy."

"Trying to use my fame to get ahead—oh, to become even more famous."

Hermione spoke sarcastically, parroting: "I will teach Harry well how to become a qualified, charming wizard."

Ron blinked.

"He never thought about how to become a qualified Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Hermione tapped the table lightly, "Five Galleons for one book, all filled with his own self-aggrandizing words. What a waste."

Mentioning money, Harry thought of something: "Hermione, what is the exchange rate for Galleons at Gringotts?"

"Five to one." Hermione answered casually, "Why do you ask? You aren't short on Galleons."

"Help me exchange twenty pounds; should I give you four Galleons?" Harry pulled out his wallet and counted out four gold Galleons.

Hermione shook her head, her face flushing slightly: "No, I have enough money, I just need to buy fewer extracurricular books. But with Mrs. Potter's notes, I..."

Harry interrupted her: "I borrowed twenty pounds from Uncle Vernon, I have to pay him back."

"Ah, oh..." Hermione opened her mouth and nodded awkwardly, "I see. Then I'll send the money to you after I get home."

Hedwig flew onto Hermione's head in annoyance and began pecking at her again.

They sat at the ice cream shop until the afternoon, then went their separate ways home.

Ragnuk had also finished crafting the leather armor.

Although this old goblin wasn't quite right in the head, his craftsmanship was impeccable; among all the blacksmiths Harry had ever seen, he was the most skilled.

The Troll skin wasn't particularly beautiful, but after being infused with silver and iron, it shimmered with a dull, dark gray and featured ripple-like patterns.

It was also very comfortable to wear.

"This is my finest work!" Ragnuk said proudly, "You must make good use of it."

He busied himself, continuing to stoke the furnace.

"Harry, are you sure you want him to keep using the furnace?" Flitwick asked, worried, "I thought it was nothing at first, but over this past month, he's been collecting a pile of ore from who knows where..."

Harry comforted him: "Don't worry, Professor, I've already made arrangements with Ron."

"Once the holiday ends, the Ministry of Magic will go and raid his home."

Flitwick nodded: "Oh, that is a truly excellent idea."

"He won't be arrested by the Ministry of Magic, will he?" Harry worried slightly; such a useful goblin, if he only did one deal, he felt he would be at a loss.

"No." Flitwick shook his head, "He is, after all... a descendant of the Goblin King. The Ministry of Magic wouldn't dare do that."

Harry felt relieved: "That's good then."

There was half a month left until school started.

Harry urged Professor Flitwick to train him even more strictly.

From four or five in the morning until ten at night—Flitwick felt that his own level had improved significantly after a long time; this was not just training Harry, but also training himself.

September 1st.

Hedwig was busy running errands; he had to send a letter to Ron, asking Mr. Weasley to burn the bridge after crossing it.

He also had to send a letter to Vernon to return the money and that kitchen knife, while incidentally urging Petunia to make two pounds of owl treats, before finally chasing after the train to return to Harry's side.

The start of school this year.

The atmosphere was rather unusual.

At the station, besides Hagrid, there were Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and... Lockhart, wearing bright purple robes and his signature smile.

Thanks to Shadow of Dawn, Jiraiya, and Richie for the tips!

Thanks to the book friend ending in 1072 for the tip!

Thanks to Origin Titan for the tip!

Three chapters tomorrow, I'm taking it easy today QAQ