Grindelwald chuckled.
"I never let others do things for me."
"It hasn't happened before, and it won't happen now."
"Everyone who works for me receives a satisfactory reward. Of course, you will not be an exception."
Rita Skeeter suppressed her excitement. "Then... Mr. Principal, how many Galleons do you plan to pay?"
Grindelwald waved dismissively. "You can discuss that with Vita. I'm sure you'll come to an agreement."
Grindelwald had no interest in such trivial matters, leaving them to his vice-principal. In this regard, that Bullide was very similar.
"Oh, by the way, there's a file on the table for you," he added. "It contains all the dirt on Lockhart."
Rita's eyes gleamed. This job was easy. If Lockhart had no scandals, she'd have to make them up. But if he had real ones? That was a gift.
She picked up the file. "Don't worry, leave it to me."
With that, she turned and left, heading straight to Vita. She knew Grindelwald wasn't one for small talk.
As she departed, Grindelwald smirked. "Blake, you see... I'm not like that old fool Dumbledore. He just talks, but I take action."
At Professor Kettleburn's cottage, Dumbledore spoke to Blake about Dean Bohan, seeking his insights on healing.
"Dean Bohan wants to ask me—a child—about healing?" Blake was surprised. The dean of St. Mungo's had a prestigious status. For someone like him to openly seek advice from an unknown teenager was extraordinary.
Blake frowned. "Professor, you should've told me sooner! Elders shouldn't come to me—I should visit them!"
Dumbledore chuckled, his beard quivering. "I would have... but you're never at school! I can't even find you at night."
Blake scratched his nose sheepishly. "Then let's go find Dean Bohan soon."
Dumbledore smiled. "Tonight, after dinner. Sylvanus will join us. Dean Bohan can assess his new limbs."
Blake understood Dumbledore's intent. Kettleburn wasn't just coming to show off; he was living proof that Blake's healing spells worked. After all, it had been Dean Bohan who treated Kettleburn's injuries in the first place.
Kettleburn laughed. "Of course, I must go! I need to show off my new hands and legs to old Bohan!"
Blake hesitated. "Professor... since we've already had breakfast, why not go now?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No rush. Attend your classes first. Skipping lessons is disrespectful."
Blake sighed. "But... Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts class is in the afternoon."
"Oh... really?" Dumbledore hesitated. "Then... we'll go after lunch."
Blake groaned internally. "Lockhart, I hate you!"
Lockhart stared at the letter from his editor-in-chief friend, disbelief washing over him.
[Just because I tried to get my name in that damn article, I lost my job! Lockhart, you—!]
Lockhart blinked. "Wait... I just added my name, and he got fired? That's absurd!"
Unbeknownst to him, the sentence he had inserted was a direct insult to Grindelwald:
[With the help of Gilderoy Lockhart, Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Blake invented the life-extending potion...]
When Grindelwald had reviewed the article, he had been furious. What did Blake's potion have to do with Lockhart? The idea that Lockhart had guided Blake was laughable.
It was fortunate that Grindelwald personally reviewed all manuscripts. Otherwise, had this sentence been published, it would have been nauseating. The editor responsible had been fired on the spot—lucky, considering the old Grindelwald would have done worse.
As for Lockhart... Blake wanted to deal with him, so Grindelwald had no reason to interfere.
"Good day, Tris."
Blake greeted a familiar trainee healer at St. Mungo's. Therese Pye, the trainee who had assisted him last time, was dozing off again. Jolted awake, she instinctively began apologizing, only to realize the person before her wasn't her boss—it was Blake.
"Oh! It's you!" Tris beamed.
Blake had left a lasting impression on her. Patients he had treated had miraculously recovered, and even Dean Bohan had chased after him, an almost legendary occurrence.
Then Tris noticed Dumbledore and Kettleburn beside him. Her eyes widened in shock.
"Merlin's beard! Professor Dumbledore! And... Professor Kettleburn!"
Dumbledore greeted her warmly. "Ah, you graduated from Hufflepuff, yes?"
"You... you remember me?!" Tris stammered, flattered.
Then her gaze fell on Kettleburn, and she gasped. "Merlin's beard! Your limbs... they've grown back?!"
Kettleburn grinned. "That's right, Tris. All thanks to Blake."
Tris turned to Blake, awe in her eyes. In her mind, he had already surpassed even Dean Bohan. After all, patients Bohan couldn't heal, Blake had cured effortlessly.
Blake noticed the near worship in her gaze. Then, suddenly—
Ding!
The system awarded him a gold treasure chest and three silver ones. Blake blinked. Only exceptionally talented individuals had ever dropped gold treasure chests before...
And Tris, a Hufflepuff graduate, had just done so.
He cleared his throat. "Ahem, Senior Pye, we're here to see Dean Bohan. Is he available?"
Tris snapped back to reality. "Oh! Yes, he's in his office! I'll take you to him!"
She hesitated before adding, "Blake... your healing magic is incredible. Could you teach me? My brother always says I'm bad at it..."
Blake grinned. "Of course, no problem."
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