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Chapter 58
Time flew, and the school year at Hogwarts was drawing to a close. The auditorium had been lavishly decorated, with red and gold ribbons hanging from the ceiling and walls, celebrating Gryffindor's commanding lead in the House Cup. Behind the guest of honor's seat hung a grand banner, bearing the proud image of a lion in mid-roar.
The students' excitement was palpable. It wasn't only the promise of a holiday break that lifted their spirits, but also the presence of the long-awaited guest: the hero of the hour.
Dumbledore began his customary speech, his calm, measured voice filling the auditorium. Yet, even as he spoke, many students couldn't hide their impatience, their attention drifting toward the man standing quietly behind him.
"Well, it seems my students cannot wait any longer," Dumbledore said with a laugh. "This old man cannot compete with your youthful energy." He gestured elegantly toward the guest behind him. "Now, let us hear from the person you've all been eagerly awaiting. I am certain he will be happy to exchange ideas with all of you."
A thunderous wave of applause erupted from the students below the stage.
The man was none other than Professor Lockhart, who had been absent from Hogwarts for quite some time. He stepped forward, a dazzling smile on his face, his trademark blue robe embroidered with forget-me-nots flowing behind him. Medals and decorations gleamed from his chest, glinting in the auditorium lights. Even before he spoke, the students were enraptured.
"Actually," Lockhart began, his voice smooth and confident, "I only performed a small duty." His smile widened, charming and self-assured. "I hold the third-class medal of the Sir Merlin Legion—oh, no, it should now be second-class, thanks to a recent adjustment. I am an honorary member of the Anti-Black Magic Alliance and have been awarded the Most Charming Smile in Wizard Weekly five times."
He paused dramatically, letting the applause wash over him, before lowering his voice slightly. "Of all my achievements, however, the one I am proudest of is serving as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts." His gaze softened, as if recalling fond memories.
The auditorium erupted again. Harry and Ron's hands were red from clapping, and cries of "Lockhart! Lockhart!" echoed from every corner.
"Thank you for your enthusiasm," Lockhart said with a small bow, quieting the room. "However, for reasons you may have heard, I can no longer teach here. My magical abilities have been significantly affected. The Defense Against the Dark Arts course is vital for your safety, requiring not only strong theoretical knowledge but also formidable practical skill. Where once I was merely sufficient, now I am not."
A chorus of sympathetic sighs rose from the students. They felt the loss keenly, though no one could argue against the decision.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the Gryffindor section. "Professor Lockhart!"
All eyes turned toward the speaker: a head of fiery red hair stood defiantly, and the students recognized him immediately.
"Oh, Ron Weasley," Lockhart said warmly, his gentlemanly smile unwavering. "Please, step forward. What is your question?"
Ron straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath. "I heard that the professor teaching Defense Against Magical Creatures will be retiring next year. I was wondering… perhaps you could take that position?"
A murmur rippled through the auditorium. Students of nearly every house, save for Slytherin, eagerly exchanged excited whispers. Many were silently hoping Lockhart would accept.
For a moment, Lockhart looked tempted. But then he caught Dumbledore's eyes from the corner of the stage. The headmaster's serene smile reminded him of something he had long been trying to forget: the chaos at St. Mungo's.
He remembered waking on a large, white-covered hospital bed, surrounded by a swarm of reporters. Flashing cameras, rapid-fire questions, and constant interruptions—all seeking the story of his bravery, his so-called heroism.
"Mr. Lockhart, your magical ability has been affected—how do you feel?"
"Do you regret coming to Hogwarts to teach?"
"What were you thinking when you saved Miss Granger?"
"How did you manage to defeat a Basilisk?"
The questions had left him flustered, but Lockhart, ever the master of spin, had smiled, woven his words carefully, and played the hero. Though he faintly remembered the events of Christmas Day, the world now saw him as a savior.
"In the blink of an eye, that serpent's massive tail whipped through the air, stirring winds so fierce I could barely stand. My eyes… I could not open them, relying only on my ears to sense its movements. And so…" He gestured dramatically. "I acted!"
The reporters applauded, impressed by his audacity and charm.
Eventually, the media departed, leaving Lockhart to reflect. His fame as a hero weighed on him, a strange, unfamiliar burden. The "Amnesia Curse" that had preserved his reputation now only added to his unease.
He sank back into the soft pillow, intending to rest, when a drawer beside his bed caught his eye. One of the drawers was slightly open, revealing a thick stack of documents, mysterious and foreboding.
Lockhart's sleepiness vanished. Heart pounding, he glanced at the locked door, saw no one nearby, and let out a long, quiet sigh of relief.
The game was far from over.
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