"Thump!"
When Lockhart escaped from Lorne's memories, his legs were trembling so badly that he fell off his chair and knelt down in front of Lorne.
Lorne: "?"
Lockhart's success as a bestselling author stems from two main factors: firstly, he has a wealth of material, having borrowed from the experiences of numerous adventurers; and secondly, his mastery of plot, his ability to grab readers' attention, and his skill in assessing the likelihood of events occurring.
He now concluded that Lorne must be under the control of Ancient Magic.
That must be it!
Lorne's memory chain broke because he was cursed and had already died; the subsequent memory chains all originated from that powerful, dark, Ancient Magic.
Ancient Magic possessing a body—if this were made into a novel, it would definitely be a hit. Or, you could write about a kind-hearted Ancient Magic sleeping inside a ring, helping the protagonist grow.
Compared to that, the stories I wrote are utterly inferior.
Lorne wanted to explain that as an outcast of the Ancient Magic, the Magic Mobile Phone was not something he could control; his physical body was weak and helpless, and his power came from the ancient times. Even if the Ministry of Magic investigated him, he had ample reason to explain everything.
As for Lockhart, he wanted Lockhart to understand that he had evidence of Lockhart's memory theft, so that Lockhart would behave himself for the rest of the school year, attend classes properly, and not cause any trouble.
But Lockhart, standing before him, remained kneeling and refused to rise.
Lorne felt that Lockhart must have misunderstood something; wasn't his pseudonym used quite humbly?
"I don't want to cause trouble for Hogwarts, nor do I want to be a champion of justice. As long as you teach properly and don't get any more complaints from students, I won't report you to the Ministry of Magic," Lorne said, standing up and looking down at him.
However, Lockhart remained kneeling on the ground, silent.
Just when Lorne thought Lockhart had fainted due to the backlash of the curse, Lockhart, who was kneeling, suddenly spoke up, "I will do everything as you say."
Lorne shook his head, unable to suppress his inner grumbling.
Neuropathy.
Could it be that the passive defense from the system's Memory Modification Charm has made him stupid?
On the Quidditch Pitch.
Harry was in a bad mood. His senior Wood, had woken him up early this morning for training, and he hadn't been able to avoid Colin.
This little fanboy got up at some unknown time and waited at the bottom of the stairs with his camera, just to capture the scene of Harry walking down the stairs.
"Hello, Harry," Colin energetically.
"Hello, Colin." Harry, both exasperated and annoyed.
Yet he couldn't get angry at either of them. Last year, because he went to protect the Philosopher's Stone and was hospitalized, Gryffindor lost without Seeker. Colin, on Colin other hand, would patiently apologize and praise him no matter how angry he was, as if he had punched a cotton ball.
They woke up all the team members along the way, Harry could tell that, except for Wood, no one wanted to be forced to get up on a Saturday morning to listen to Wood's endless ramblings on about theoretical tactics.
By the time they came out of the locker room, the sun had already risen. Harry didn't understand why Wood had called him so early, since he usually arrived at the Quidditch Pitch at the same time for training.
Ron and Hermione have even arrived at the stadium.
Colin was there too, holding a camera, but it was immediately pressed down on him.
This time it's not Harry, it's Wood.
"Whose child is this?" Wood asked sternly. "Trying to spy on my new tactics?"
Colin shrank back. "I'm from Gryffindor."
"Hey, is this the personal photographer and bodyguard that the Chosen One Harry hired for himself?"
On the other side of the pitch, a group of Slytherin dressed in green outfits slowly approached, each carrying a brand-new broom, every single one Winky Nimbus 2001.
" Nimbus 2001, everyone has one," Flint grinned, "Sponsored by our new Seeker's father."
The Slytherin members burst into laughter, with one sarcastically remarking that Filch could use the twins' brooms to sweep toilets.
"But they all got into the team through their own hard work and talent," Hermione retorted, "Not by donating seven brooms to buy a position."
Draco has been preoccupied lately.
He wanted to remind Director Lorne, but he didn't want to hinder his father. He kept telling himself that those who were not of Pure-blood were bound to have different intentions, but he still felt a sense of guilt every time he saw Lorne.
However, this has nothing to do with other Mudblood.
"You know what? Maybe no one in the Wizarding World will listen to the advice of a Mudblood," Draco scoffed.
Hermione didn't really care about the word; she firmly believed that knowledge and a rich inner world would make her stronger.
But Fred and George had already charged forward, and Ron pulled out his wand and swung it sharply at Draco: " Eat Slugs!"
A green light flashed, but Ron, who was casting the spell, was knocked to the ground by his unwieldy wand. He struggled to his feet, his stomach churning, and he vomited up a sticky slug.
The Slytherin burst into laughter again. Harry bent down to check on Ron, then stood up and rushed to Draco.
"Let's duel, Malfoy!" Harry glared, "Just the two of us!"
Draco, who was used to Street Wizard Fighter, desperately needed something to distract him. He readily agreed, "Okay, tonight then. Hopefully, your paparazzi won't capture you looking like you've lost."
Colin put down his camera. " Harry will definitely win!"
However, the duel between the two did not take place. They had just gotten into position when Professor McGonagall caught them red-handed, and Colin, who was hiding in the bushes nearby, was also caught in the crossfire.
The three wailed after being penalized, but Professor McGonagall remained impartial and confined them for two weeks.
On the first night, Harry was assigned to help Lockhart back letters, Draco was to help Lorne transcribe the investigation report, Colin was assigned to Filch's cupboards to clean.
Harry really wanted to switch places with Draco; he didn't want to see Lockhart right now.
Draco thought the same thing; he feared he would be torn between his inner thoughts and his own when facing Lorne.
But to Harry's surprise, Lockhart had become much more restrained. When Harry entered, he even saw Lockhart preparing lessons using last year's Defence Against Dark Magic Class.
"You're here, Harry," Lockhart, this time without putting his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Write a reply to these readers for me. I need to think about how to teach you next week. By the way, how far did you get in your Defence Against Dark Magic Class last year?"
"We've learned almost nothing, Professor Lockhart," Harry said truthfully. He even wanted to add that if Lockhart continued teaching, they would probably still be at this pace by this time next year.
"That's terrible," Lockhart muttered before immediately starting to scribble and draw in his textbook.
Harry was completely baffled. Shouldn't Professor Lockhart be putting down last year's professor and fantasizing about how, if he had been the teacher last year, the students' current level would already be comparable to Merlin's?
Harry was somewhat shocked; he sensed that Professor Lockhart had suffered some kind of shock.
It must have been Dumbledore gave him a warning.
After all, no principal would want to see the entire school's faculty and students fooling around with an honorary winner for an entire semester.