Lockhart stared blankly at the bone whip in his hand.
"Give it a try, Professor Lockhart," Morris advised at the opportune moment, "You can manipulate it as you see fit."
Lockhart immediately snapped out of his daze, cleared his throat, and said, "I can tell how to use this little gadget just by looking at it."
He casually flicked his wrist, but the bone whip remained hanging lifelessly.
An awkward atmosphere immediately filled the office.
Morris said, "Perhaps we need to focus a bit more."
"Of course," Lockhart muttered, switching the bone whip to his other hand.
This time, the bone whip finally raised its head and began to dance in the air.
His eyes lit up, and he gradually found his rhythm.
Morris continued, "It also has a telescopic function; as long as there is enough magic, it can be extended indefinitely, but there is a limit to the length it can be controlled."
Lockhart used his bone whip to pick up a pink quill from the table, placed it in his other hand, and then lifted the entire table up. It wobbled a bit, but he did manage to do it.
"Ha! That's more like it!" He smiled with satisfaction.
The bone whip twirled nimbly in the air, its tip lightly touching the ground.
Seeing this, Morris nodded to himself.
It seems like things are settled. What price should he offer this complete traitor?
The other party will most likely buy this magical wand.
Lockhart knew no magic other than the Memory Charm. This bone whip, which required no spells or gestures and could be controlled solely by thought, was undoubtedly very attractive.
In fact, Lockhart was not concerned about the function of the bone whip at this moment.
It's not so much the feeling of casting spells at will, but the feeling of being able to do whatever you want.
He hadn't used any magic other than the Memory Charm for a long time.
"Are you interested in keeping it?" Morris asked. "It came from another country and is very rare."
Lockhart, who was in the middle of a great time, paused upon hearing this, and the whip stopped.
He asked almost without hesitation, "How much, Mr. Black? It's perfect for teaching and research, and of course, a valuable collectible."
Morris said, "According to Mr. Frick's pricing, it costs one thousand Galleon. He didn't give me any room to lower the price, and besides, it's non-refundable after the sale."
"That cunning fox," Lockhart chuckled, but without hesitation pulled a bulging purse from the drawer. "I bought it."
Morris felt he might have set the price too low.
Morris walked out of the office carrying the bag of gold coins.
He hadn't expected Lockhart to agree so readily.
To be honest, this isn't a very powerful magical artifact; it's more like a cleverly crafted toy.
One thousand Galleon?
It's not worth it at all.
Moreover, the spell models he inscribed on objects have a time limit; after a while, they will lose their effect.
As for how long it can last, he couldn't be sure.
However, it should be fine to maintain this until the end of the semester.
Then he'll expose all the dirty tricks Lockhart has done, and Lockhart, being in Azkaban, probably won't be able to cause him any trouble.
Gaa gaa gaa.
It's even possible that the other person won't last until the end of the term, since those who come to Hogwarts to Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts rarely have a good ending.
The feeling of fullness from the heavy little bag made Morris unconsciously hum a song softly.
Perhaps he should turn all the remaining inferior wands into similar magical items.
When Morris arrived at the Great Hall, lunchtime was almost over. There weren't many people, but the atmosphere was very lively.
He saw the Weasley Twins surrounded by five or six dwarfs dressed as Cupid, carrying harps, and being forced to listen to off-key love songs.
"Oh, Fred, your eyes are as shiny as Dungbomb!"
Lyrics like these.
It's quite interesting.
Fred and George didn't seem embarrassed at all; on the contrary, they were enjoying themselves immensely.
Finally, the Cupids finished singing and quickly left, their expressions like those of office workers leaving get off work.
They probably wouldn't be too happy to pretend to be Cupid and send these ridiculous messages to the students.
There was nothing I could do; the boss was paying too much.
Poor working class!
Morris walked up to the twins and asked, "Who sent you the message?"
Fred and George sighed.
Clearly, they are not as indifferent to it as they appear.
Fred said wearily, "Anyway, it wasn't given to us by the girls."
"Huh?" Morris was taken aback.
George added, "They're all anonymous. They're probably from the people we usually prank. Someone's retaliating; otherwise, how could we receive over a dozen messages in one morning?"
Morris chuckled softly, "So you guys are quite popular."
To be honest, just watching those little dwarfs deliver messages to the students gave him goosebumps.
Fortunately, he did not receive any greeting cards or messages.
That's normal; he's only in second grade.
Although he developed quickly, he still looked like just a child.
I'm very lucky.
afternoon.
During a Potions Class, Snape was explaining the key points of processing African Tree Snake, and all the students were listening attentively.
"When cutting African Tree Snake, you must follow the grain of the scales, otherwise unpredictable consequences may occur... Black, stand up and answer my question."
"Bang."
The wooden door to the underground classroom was suddenly pushed open, slamming against the wall, interrupting Snape's words and drawing the attention of all the students.
A little dwarf was standing at the door.
"Sigh, here we go again." Morris heard Kevin sigh beside him.
The surrounding students all wore expressions of helplessness or schadenfreude.
The dwarves Lockhart hired were completely clueless; even during class time, they would barge in without any sense of propriety.
Clearly, Lockhart's instructions to them did not include "avoiding class time".
Morris looked at the dwarf and wondered who it would be this time.
The dwarf hadn't even had a chance to make a sound.
"Get out!"
Snape's deep voice rang out, followed by a sharp swing of his wand.
An invisible force instantly enveloped the bewildered dwarf at the door, dragging him out, while the door slammed shut and locked.
A few seconds later, a greeting card was slipped under the door.
Snape strode over, bent down to pick up the greeting card, and glanced at the signature on it with a grim face. "Let me see who it is..."
Morris sensed that someone was probably in trouble.
Who could it be?
" Black," Snape called his name.
"?"
Morris was taken aback.
Then, Snape expressionlessly tossed the greeting card far onto his desk.
The lesson continued, and Morris opened the greeting card and glanced at it.
There is only one line of text above.
"At six o'clock in the evening, through the door to the right of the portrait of the weeping woman on the third floor of the castle, I will hold a small gathering. You are not required to attend. --Robert Hilliard "