Chapter 178: A Man Like Him
Now that the matter was settled, Professor McGonagall had something to say.
After everyone left the Hospital Wing, she called Lockhart and led him to her office.
"Professor Kettleburn has been looking for me and Dumbledore, hoping to resign from his position as Care of Magical Creatures Professor, always citing his many injuries."
That was indeed the case.
The old professor was missing most of his limbs, which provided sufficient reason for him to want to resign.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry couldn't possibly force someone unwilling to be a professor; that would clearly be inappropriate.
As the Deputy Headmistress responsible for most of the school's affairs, Professor McGonagall was naturally troubled by this issue. "He recently approached me, hoping to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts next academic year, but we all know that professorship always has its... accidents. His body might not withstand such a ordeal."
Lockhart recalled the interesting old fellow and chuckled. "He doesn't want to resign because he's too old or too tired; he wants to resign because he's too passionate! You could put him in charge of the adventure grounds. I'd wager he wouldn't talk about leaving Hogwarts anymore."
What's so interesting about adventuring at a dragon sanctuary compared to the Hogwarts adventure grounds?
With the support of professors from various departments, the Hogwarts adventures would certainly be richer and more wondrous than any dragon sanctuary adventure.
Not to mention, there were plenty of students willing to play such adventure games with him; he'd be too happy to ever leave.
Professor McGonagall paused, then smiled. "Yes, there, he's as lively as a child."
But regardless of whether Professor Kettleburn enjoyed the adventures, it seemed he truly didn't want to teach Care of Magical Creatures anymore.
"I wonder if you'd be interested in taking on that class?"
McGonagall looked at Lockhart with some anticipation.
"Me?" Lockhart pointed at himself in disbelief. "Care of Magical Creatures? Do you think that's suitable? I'm not at all good at it!"
This was true. Take the Swooping Evil he kept; he only managed to keep it alive by occasionally feeding it unwanted memories. He couldn't truly say he raised it well.
He wasn't actually that familiar with the habits of magical creatures.
"You've substituted for Professor Kettleburn a few times before, and I found your teaching quite good," Professor McGonagall observed previously.
"That was just teaching straight from the textbook; it seemed sufficient. But Professor McGonagall, you can't expect to cultivate an excellent Magizoologist with such teaching methods. It's far from enough," Lockhart countered.
He gestured towards the Forbidden Forest outside the window. "Compared to me, you'd be better off looking for Hagrid. He's incredibly skilled with magical creatures."
Care of Magical Creatures actually had many sub-disciplines. Professors like Kettleburn, the encyclopedic academic experts, were one type, often heavily paid to provide guidance at dragon reserves or magical creature breeding farms.
Then there was Newt Scamander, who pursued magical creature preservation. No one understood better how to properly settle endangered magical creatures for their continued survival.
The last type was like Hagrid: magical creature breeding. This was actually the most astonishing category. Wizards like him would greatly expand the depth and breadth of Care of Magical Creatures.
Academia, preservation, breeding—none of these fit Lockhart.
"Rubeus Hagrid..." Professor McGonagall's brows furrowed slightly. "He's probably not very suitable for teaching young wizards."
"He's the one who can cultivate Magizoologists!" Lockhart countered. "Of course, I know that untalented young wizards might perform terribly under him, but talented ones will rapidly enter that marvelous magical field of magical creature care under his guidance."
"I understand your point, but I must be responsible for all young wizards," Professor McGonagall looked earnestly at Lockhart. "I don't agree with the idea of 'talent.' Every young wizard should have sufficient opportunities for growth. They should all have an infinitely possible future."
She knew Professor Lockhart. Although this young professor acknowledged the concept of talent, he didn't care about it. He focused more on the role of the mind in magic, believing that everyone's mind was great, and everyone's magical path was full of possibilities.
She knew Lockhart would agree with her words.
"Why me?" Lockhart still didn't understand. He really wasn't proficient in Magizoology.
"Professor Kettleburn recommended you to me," Professor McGonagall said with a smile. "He said that the Dragon-Rabbit approved of you, and that you possess a talent in this area that you yourself aren't even aware of."
Lockhart couldn't maintain his composure.
Dragon-Rabbit?
Letting a rabbit determine who should be a professor?
Lockhart suddenly realized that the Forest Witch's magical talent was, in essence, more suited to this magical path.
In that case...
Maybe he could really try it?
Lockhart wasn't necessarily set on the path of cultivating Dark magical creatures. In fact, he believed he should live for several centuries in this magical world and try all kinds of fields.
The subject of magical creatures actually had many commonalities with Dark magical creatures.
"I can't give you a definite answer now," Lockhart decided. There was still a month of summer vacation. Perhaps he could try to explore it. If it was truly interesting, he wouldn't mind finding some Dark wizards to "learn" the craft from. "At the very least, I'll only know if I can teach after the term begins."
Professor McGonagall nodded. "That's fine."
She had a way to get old Professor Kettleburn to teach for another six months to a year; he'd agree even for the sake of the adventure grounds. There wasn't such an urgent need to replace the professor right away for the next semester.
After the matter was discussed, Lockhart didn't rush to leave the school.
He first went to look for Snape, but his friend hadn't stayed at school for the holidays, presumably returning to Spinner's End.
So he simply went back to Hogsmeade Village, ordered some drinks and roasted lamb from Aberforth Dumbledore, the owner of the Hog's Head Inn, and had a delicious dinner with his friends.
With the Red Cloak, the Dark magical creature "Sack of Knives," he wasn't too worried about Voldemort showing up again. He slept soundly, then returned to school to pick up his apprentice Crabbe, who had finally recovered.
"Professor, was my performance really bad?" Crabbe felt deeply guilty for not being able to help his professor.
"That was Grindelwald, child. Don't dwell on it," Lockhart comforted him.
Besides, what did Crabbe even understand? He was currently only proficient in three spells: Apparition, Soul Bonfire, and Warm Healing.
"Come on, let's continue our summer trip," Lockhart called out to Crabbe, walking towards the Hogwarts Viaduct, which was open for Apparition.
"Professor, where are we going next?" Crabbe asked curiously.
"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!" Lockhart thought for a moment and gave the answer. A member of the Magnolia Ravenclaw student group worked at this hospital. "We're going to find Healer Naomi. She might have patients with soul injuries, and if there are any caused by the Cruciatus Curse, that would be best. We'll see if your Soul Bonfire magic can have an effect."
Crabbe was deeply moved. The professor had gone through so much trouble planning his life, trying every possible way to guide him towards the magical path. He was awkward with words and didn't know how to express his gratitude.
However, the professor simply looked at him with a gentle smile and patted his shoulder. "Grow up quickly, and you'll naturally be able to help me."
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, located in London, England, wasn't just for the British wizarding world.
It was built in the late 16th century, during the initial establishment of the Ministry of Magic and the transition of power in the Wizengamot. The Order of Merlin's faith wavered at that time, and many wizarding knights who disliked politics used this hospital as a refuge. This background contributed to the hospital's international nature to a certain extent.
Various magical disciplines from around the globe could find some trace here. People could even find Voodoo practitioners using unique rituals as healing methods.
Of course, this hospital wouldn't be Crabbe's final destination.
Its recruitment requirements for Healers were extremely strict and rigid. For example, fresh graduates from magical schools were required to have at least "Outstanding" or "Exceeds Expectations" in five N.E.W.T. (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test) subjects.
Crabbe would probably need tutoring for even his O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Level); he wouldn't meet this threshold at all.
Of course, sometimes this didn't mean anything.
Lockhart saw Crabbe's talent in healing. The spell "Soul Bonfire" was already showing many wondrous changes in Crabbe's hands—changes that even the Forest Witch would exclaim over. This was precisely the manifestation of the mind and magic mutually fitting and choosing each other.
This path was the right one.
They soon arrived at St. Mungo's. Healer Naomi was a Healer responsible for treating Muggles harmed by wizarding magic. Her office was on the fifth floor.
"Cruciatus Curse..." Healer Naomi's expression became a little strange. "You've come at just the right time. A very famous Potions Master happens to be seeking a way to treat this magical injury."
"A very famous Potions Master?" Lockhart wasn't sure why her tone had changed like that.
Led by Healer Naomi, the two walked down the hospital's long corridor and soon arrived at a ward door. Two family members at the doorway seemed to be engaged in a heated discussion.
"Who knows if he was one of the ones who hurt my brother and sister-in-law back then? Why are you letting him help with the treatment? I don't agree!" The speaker was a tall, stout middle-aged man with a full beard, his expression particularly angry, even somewhat venomous.
Lockhart had seen this man before, during the time he gained recognition as an Unspeakable in the British Confederation of Wizards' Wizengamot.
His expression immediately turned strange.
"Algie!" Beside the middle-aged man was an old witch wearing a vulture-feather hat and an emerald antique dress, her face full of sorrow. "Even if there's just a glimmer of a chance, I can't miss it!"
The middle-aged man pursed his lips and fell silent, tightly clenching his fists.
Just then, he seemed to realize someone was approaching, turned to look, and paused. "Professor Lockhart?"
Lockhart smiled slightly. "Hello, Mr. Longbottom."
This was Neville's uncle, and beside him was Neville's grandmother. After exchanging greetings, Mr. Longbottom voluntarily brought up what was happening in the ward.
"Professor Lockhart, it's good you're here. You've worked with Snape at Hogwarts before, right? Do you think a man like him would be so kind as to voluntarily come forward and say he wants to treat my brother? A man like him, does he really have no other ulterior motives?"
Lockhart raised an eyebrow, his gaze moving past Mr. Longbottom and into the ward. He clearly saw Snape looking down at a patient on the bed, his face filled with sorrow.
Well, well~
What a coincidence!
"Yes, a man like him..." Lockhart smiled faintly. "...is attempting to bear his own guilt and mission."
....
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