Dumbledore's Azkaban

I was so stupid, really.

During Defence Against Dark Magic class, Lockhart raised his lifeless eyes and continued.

"I only knew that Bushmills Whiskey had a high alcohol content and that you shouldn't drink too much at once, but I didn't know that adding wine could make you drunk so easily..."

"During the banquet, I returned to my office and was preparing my lesson alone when the dwarf chief knocked on my door and said that his brother was missing."

I went to ask around, and sure enough, there was no such place.

I panicked and rushed out to look for him. After the banquet ended, I searched and searched until I found my bedroom, where I saw his clothes lying by the door.

The dwarves all said, "Oh no, we've probably been attacked."

When I went back in, he was indeed lying on the bed, naked, tied to the bed, and tightly clutching my autograph in his hand...

Lockhart then could only sob, unable to utter a coherent sentence.

Ever since that day Lockhart drank the Amortentia given to him by Snape and made love with the dwarf... he has become the way he is now.

The students below listened to Lockhart's story while yawning.

At first, people would shed a few tears of sympathy.

As the number of times increased, no one wanted to hear Lockhart's stories anymore, and even Marietta, who liked him the most, found them boring.

But this did not stop Lockhart from repeatedly recounting the events and observing everyone's reactions.

A qualified writer must know which version of a story is more likely to evoke tears and interest in readers!

Lockhart wants to turn pain into strength, artistically rewriting his personal experiences and adding them to his new book.

The protagonist of the story is no longer himself, but has been transformed into Snape.

Snape became a victim of the Bloody Dryads during the attack by the troublesome dwarves!

This is Lockhart's unique way of taking revenge!

If you can't beat the wicked Snape, then take a pen and... write him to death!

Wow, what a tough, unyielding England!

After class, Lockhart stopped William.

"What's wrong, Professor?" William asked, puzzled.

"How's my shampoo?" Lockhart asked anxiously, rubbing his hands together.

"The feedback hasn't been very good..." William said after a moment's thought.

There's no feedback... The shampoo is either being purified or being improved by adding various ingredients.

But we certainly can't tell Lockhart that, since William is after all trying to get something for nothing, only targeting one sheep.

Let's fleece him bald first!

"What are we going to do? We've already given away so many bottles!"

Lockhart panicked upon hearing this, his heart bleeding – those were all Winky Galleon!

Over the years, he's braved wind and rain, gathering material and writing novels everywhere, even getting attacked by dwarves at Hogwarts... Is it easy for him to earn such a meager living?

"Don't be impatient," William said. "This is called scarcity marketing—selling at a loss to generate buzz!"

First, distribute the free shampoo. Once everyone gets used to it being free and can't live without it, suddenly raise the price and fleece them!

I'm a professional!

"That makes sense..." Lockhart nodded slightly, then hesitated for a moment. "But you just said the feedback wasn't good."

"That's because the feedback wasn't good in the British Isles. The wizards on these islands are all country bumpkins who don't know their stuff. Otherwise, why would there be so many bald guys?" William said, half-jokingly.

"That makes sense..." Lockhart was afraid of going bald, which is why he developed shampoo so early.

As the saying goes, "You can tell what a person will be like at three, what they will be like at seven, and what they will be like for life at twelve."

Based on Lockhart's many years of experience, many of the young wizards at this school will go bald later in life.

For example, someone whose hair is always perfectly styled and shiny... Malfoy!

He was exactly twelve years old; Lockhart could never have misjudged him.

What Lockhart couldn't understand the most was Dumbledore.

Judging from the principal's hair texture, he should have gone bald in middle age, so how come in his old age... not only has his hair grown back, but it's also long and flowing?

He had never heard of Potions that could cure baldness, which was a terminal illness.

The principal must be wearing a wig!

William continued his deception, "United Kingdom wizards don't know their stuff, but let me tell you, the Russians really love your shampoo."

They love explosions, they love excitement, the more dangerous the Skee.

And those wizards in Northern Europe... Do you know Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang Institute?

He wrote to me saying he absolutely loved this shampoo.

"You know Karkaroff?" Lockhart asked in surprise.

"We met, and we hit it off immediately, calling each other brothers. He even invited me to study at his school."

What did he say about my shampoo?

He said washing his chest hair makes it exceptionally smooth, and he even wanted to invite you, the inventor, to do it with him.

Lockhart rubbed his backside, stirring up unpleasant memories.

"Oh, right William, I have a few boxes of shampoo left. You can take them all later!"

"That's not a good idea, Professor. I'm not that kind of person."

"We're like family, don't stand on ceremony with me."

Just then, an owl flew by.

William was taken aback; it was Rita's owl.

He apologized, walked to a corner, took the letter, and opened the envelope.

William frowned as he read the information in the letter.

"What's wrong, William? Who sent it?" Lockhart asked with a smile.

William smiled and looked at Professor Lockhart meaningfully.

"It's nothing, I just suddenly realized that the professor... is very impressive, and quite unassuming."

Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Where did you get your information, William?" he asked softly.

"Hmm... well..."

"You don't have to say."

"I got it from Rita; I caught her doing something wrong," William said vaguely.

"You were talking about her at Christmas, right?"

"That's right." William nodded. "But now is not the time to talk about Rita, Professor. We're talking about Hagrid's problem!"

"Hagrid's problem isn't a major problem in the grand scheme of things," Dumbledore said calmly.

"But Lockhart reported Hagrid for opening the Chamber of Secrets, and he's going to be taken to Azkaban. Fudge said he'd send in Auror..."

"This should have happened six months ago," Dumbledore said.

"When the Chamber of Secrets was first opened, Fudge wrote to me, wanting to arrest Hagrid and take him to Azkaban, but I suppressed it."

"I see... So that means there's no way to salvage the situation?"

"No." Dumbledore shook his head, his gaze passing through his Half-moon Spectacles.

"William, you should learn more about our minister; you'll have to deal with him sooner or later."

"What's the meaning?"

"I have already submitted your name as the United Kingdom Youth Representative of the Wizengamot."

I thought it was just a casual remark.

"Fudge was just saying it casually, but I took it seriously, and I happen to be the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I need your help!"

William didn't seem to care much. "Let's talk about this minister instead."

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and said softly, "Fudge is a politician at heart. When things happen, he likes to habitually shift the blame and push responsibility onto others."

With the attack on Hogwarts, he'll definitely be unable to withstand the pressure and will take Hagrid away.

I suppressed his anger for a while, but I couldn't embarrass him too much; after all, I'm not the Minister for Magic.

He had long harbored resentment towards me, always feeling that I was trying to seize his power.

"Why don't you Minister for Magic... You'd definitely be better than him," William said, puzzled.

Dumbledore remained silent for a long time.

"William, I'm not bragging, but the position of Minister for Magic has been offered to me not just once, but many times."

But I refused them all; I knew I couldn't be given power.

"Why?"

"Because I did some wrong things when I was young, really bad, really desperate things... I hurt a child, a child similar to your sister Anne."

That incident proved that power is my weakness, my temptation... I swore an oath... to be a teacher at Hogwarts for life.

Dumbledore stared silently out the window, lost in thought for a long time.

William also stood there, lost in thought.

He suddenly realized that the man in pain before him was actually an elderly man with white hair, over a hundred years old.

People always habitually let Dumbledore stand in the front, to shield him from the wind and rain.

William couldn't help but comfort her:

"Professor, if that child could see how great you are now, he would forgive you."

"Yes," Dumbledore, tears streaming down his face. "That child has always been so gentle; she would surely forgive me with a smile... but I cannot forgive myself!"

"I don't deserve forgiveness either. Hogwarts... is my Azkaban."

William opened his mouth, but found himself speechless. He stood up and, across the table, patted the old man's broad shoulder reassuringly.

The scene was strange and tragic.

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