"I think I should take this opportunity to thank the headmaster. Throughout today's entire awarding ceremony, he did not choose to use his influence or reputation in the Wizengamot to challenge the approval of my awards. We all know that with Headmaster Dumbledore's current standing and power, stopping a few medals from passing review would have been no problem at all."
He paused, his gaze still fixed on the side door. Someone had just pulled it shut from outside. The last sliver of corridor light in the crack was narrowing, narrowing until it resembled a taut golden thread, then vanished completely.
"But he did not do that. He did not let past positions or personal preferences obstruct the Wizengamot's correct judgment based on the facts. Such restraint deserves the respect of both myself and everyone present. I propose we give our headmaster a round of applause!" With that, he gave a slight nod and began applauding in Dumbledore's direction.
The movement was small, like a gesture of respect toward someone in the distance who no longer needed to be seen clearly. Applause gradually rose in the courtroom as well, though it was far from enthusiastic—scattered and sparse, like rain striking dried leaves. Some hands clapped twice and stopped, while others joined only after some hesitation. A witch seated in the front row brought her palms together without making a sound, merely letting them touch lightly before placing them back on her lap.
Lockhart's words settled into the air, caught by the diaphragms of recording quills and pressed onto notebook pages by reporters' fingers. Every word was legally clean, yet to those who knew what had happened in the courtroom, they sounded like a branch bent to its limit, ready to snap back in its original direction at any moment—only no