Compared to the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Quirrell, Gilderoy Lockhart was undoubtedly more satisfactory. Shortly after the second attack incident, he specifically established the Dueling Club.
Harry's exposure of his ability to speak to snakes was purely accidental—he had indeed taught the young wizards some useful things.
Not only that, he had also added a great deal of content about battling "monsters" to his classes.
The only frustrating thing was that most of this content was still theatrical.
Anyway, his complicated wand-waving movements had yet to be mastered by anyone.
Even a top student like Hermione couldn't do it.
The reason was simple—he taught students different movements every time.
As for truly useful content, it still occupied only a very small portion, just like his previous teaching process.
But even for this tiny portion, the young wizards had to perk up and accompany Lockhart in performing stage plays.
Besides with students, during this period Lockhart had more than once expressed his capabilities to other professors.
His current catchphrase was.
"I don't think there will be any more trouble, Minerva/Filius/Pomona/Snape."
Worth noting was that Lockhart, like Dumbledore, insisted on calling everyone by their first names.
Only Snape had expressed strong opposition and disgust, causing him to change from "Severus" to "Professor Snape." Although other professors also detested this overly familiar behavior, they couldn't bring themselves to be as harsh as Snape in their rebukes, so they could only let him be.
However, after hearing his boastful talk, they still couldn't help frowning.
"The Chamber will never be opened again this time. The criminal definitely already knows that I'll catch them sooner or later—
it's just a matter of time.
Stopping now before I start dealing with them would be wise."
"That line would be more convincing coming from Sherlock," Ron said with disgust. "Who does he think he is?"
"Ron, you really overestimate me," Sherlock shook his head. "Besides, I don't think the perpetrator has stopped."
"You mean..."
Hearing Sherlock's words, Harry immediately became tense.
'Don't say it, please don't say it!'
"The attacks will definitely continue, unless we can find the Chamber before then.
The perpetrator hasn't acted now simply because there's no opportunity."
It's over!
He said it after all.
Harry looked at Sherlock with a dejected expression, wanting to say something but ultimately restraining himself.
Just then, Lockhart and Professor McGonagall walked past them.
Their conversation reached their ears.
"I think you should know that what the school needs now is to boost morale and eliminate those things from memory!
Minerva, I can't say much to you now, but I think I have everything under control—"
He tapped his nose as he spoke and strode away with large steps.
Professor Flitwick had also heard their conversation. Looking at Lockhart's flamboyant retreating figure, he murmured.
"He's not going to—"
At that moment, he remembered the fear of being dominated by Lockhart years ago.
February 14th, Valentine's Day.
For the magical world, this holiday seemed somewhat out of place compared to the three holidays of Boxing Day, Christmas, and Easter.
Because not everyone celebrated it.
The main participants were still the upper-year students.
However, no one had expected that Gilderoy Lockhart would forcibly turn this holiday into one for everyone.
That morning, Sherlock finished his morning training with Neville and came to the Great Hall with his roommates.
They were stunned to find all four walls covered with large, dazzling pink flowers, and many heart-shaped confetti constantly falling from the pale blue ceiling.
"Sherlock, this is—"
The roommates hadn't reacted, all turning their gazes to Sherlock.
Sherlock only needed one glance to understand this was Lockhart's masterpiece.
After all, according to Professor Flitwick, he had a prior record during his student days.
Professor Flitwick's earlier words had obviously predicted this kind of behavior.
Sherlock looked toward the staff table and indeed saw Professor Flitwick burying his face in his hands, apparently feeling ashamed of having taught such a student.
"I think this should be Lockhart's method of boosting morale."
Sherlock spoke calmly, but his roommates' expressions became colorful.
Ron was especially disgusted.
Not long after sitting at the Gryffindor table, the beaming Hermione sat down beside Sherlock.
There were quite a few young witches like her, some even wearing silly grins from the moment they sat down.
Hermione was at least more normal, not quite so lovestruck.
She looked around and, noticing Harry hadn't come with Sherlock and Ron, asked.
"Where's Harry?"
"He practiced Quidditch very late last night. When we just called him, he said he wanted to sleep a bit more."
Ron said with a straight face, "Hermione, please stop smiling, okay? All your front teeth are showing."
Hermione ignored him and turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, what do you think of Professor Lockhart's method? Isn't it wonderful?"
"Indeed wonderful."
Sherlock looked again at the teachers' table.
On this special day, the long-absent Dumbledore had finally made an appearance.
Their eyes met, and Sherlock immediately knew he would finally get the answers he wanted today.
Hearing Sherlock's answer, Hermione excitedly said. "I knew you understood me!"
"What are you talking about? Who understands you?"
Harry, who had hurried to the Great Hall, happened to hear their conversation and asked in confusion. "And what on earth happened here? I thought I'd walked through the wrong door!"
"Shh~"
Hermione made a silencing gesture, indicating Harry should look forward.
Harry looked in the direction Hermione pointed and discovered that today Lockhart was wearing bright pink robes that matched those decorations.
Although this color was quite flashy, Lockhart was indeed handsome, so at this moment he actually gave an unexpectedly good impression.
However, the teachers sitting with him all had stern faces.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were the worst.
A muscle in Professor McGonagall's cheek had started twitching.
Snape looked even more extreme, as if someone had just force-fed him a large cup of Skele-Gro.
Only Dumbledore's expression was relatively relaxed.
When Harry looked over, he even gave Harry a smile.
"Everyone, happy Valentine's Day!"
Just then, Lockhart said loudly, "Forty-six people have sent me cards so far, and I thank them!
So, I took the liberty of arranging this little surprise for everyone—and there's more!"
Lockhart clapped his hands, and twelve sullen-looking dwarfs strode through the doors leading to the entrance hall.
Unlike ordinary dwarfs, Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!"
Lockhart said cheerfully.
"They'll be roaming around the school today, delivering your Valentine cards!
And the fun doesn't stop there! I'm sure my colleagues will all want to participate enthusiastically!
So why don't you all ask Professor Snape to show you how to brew love potions?
And if you're interested, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Professor Flitwick buried his face even deeper.
As for Snape, judging by his expression, anyone who actually went to ask him about love potion brewing methods as Lockhart suggested would definitely be force-fed poison.
Even the professors who hadn't been mentioned by Lockhart all had stern faces, forming a sharp contrast with the cheerful Lockhart.
As soon as this so-called ceremony ended, the staff stood up and left, as if their seats had been cursed.
They really couldn't stand it anymore.
However, even though the Great Hall was crowded with people running around, few people noticed Sherlock.
Including Hermione and Harry beside him.
By the time they realized Sherlock had somehow disappeared, he had already followed Dumbledore to the headmaster's office.
"Excellent stealth skills, Sherlock—but isn't it a bit improper for you to come find me instead of going to class?
If I remember correctly, the first class this morning is Minerva's Transfiguration!"
"On the first day back at school after the holidays, I already told Professor McGonagall that once Headmaster Dumbledore returned to school, I would find you at the first opportunity.
I just made sure she saw me leaving with you, and she didn't stop me, which in my view means she agreed.
Also, compared to this matter, I hope the headmaster can tell me all the information this time, without holding anything back."
The reason Sherlock gave advance warning was because Dumbledore could already be called a habitual offender in this regard.
Key information was always half-revealed, half-concealed.
Dumbledore smiled bitterly and shook his head, giving the password. "Fizzing Whizzbees."
The gargoyle jumped aside, and they rode the automatic spiral staircase to the top.
Entering the headmaster's office, Sherlock's first glance was still drawn to Fawkes.
Compared to last time, Fawkes had grown somewhat and was no longer a chick, though still hadn't returned to the beautiful state Dumbledore had described.
Sherlock only looked once before withdrawing his gaze. He stared intently at Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles and long nose, quietly waiting for him to speak.
Then Dumbledore opened with a bombshell: "Fifty years ago, it was Hagrid who opened the Chamber."
After a moment of silence, Sherlock looked at Dumbledore with a mocking expression.
"Headmaster, are you joking with me?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Sherlock, why do you say that?"
"Slytherin's heir is a Gryffindor, and a half-giant at that?
I remember saying something to you once before, and I might as well repeat it now:
If you really think so, I suggest you visit the dense forests of Uganda and play mutual sumo wrestling with the mountain gorillas.
Under those fierce slapping attacks, your brain might clear up a bit."
Hearing Sherlock scold him this way, Dumbledore actually laughed, and laughed quite happily.
"But—fifty years ago, that's exactly what the Ministry of Magic determined."
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