The news that Harry and Ron had arrived at school today in the flying Ford Anglia featured in The Daily Prophet spread like wildfire. No one knew who leaked it (though Glenn and Hermione suspected the Weasley twins), but it quickly became the talk of the castle.
"Did you see this? This is my brother's masterpiece," George declared proudly, holding up a copy of The Daily Prophet and showing it off to anyone who would look. He wore an expression of pure pride. "Harry must've been in that Ford Anglia too. I was wondering why those two disappeared as soon as we passed through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."
"Who else could make such a grand entrance to Hogwarts?" Fred added with a mischievous grin, winking at George. Their banter had the crowd in stitches. "Flying a car to school—this has got to be a first in Hogwarts history! People will be talking about this for years! I demand it be recorded in the school archives!"
Across the table, Neville looked just as excited, enthusiastically discussing the event with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who sat beside him.
Hermione, however, was utterly flabbergasted as she glanced around at her fellow Gryffindors cheering and celebrating. She turned to Glenn, who sat beside her, still calm and unperturbed, with a look of disbelief.
"Are you serious? Do they actually think this is something to be proud of?" Hermione was completely baffled. She felt like she couldn't understand her classmates anymore. "This was dangerous, not to mention a blatant violation of the International Statute of Secrecy! What were they even thinking?!"
Hermione looked visibly upset. The thought of Gryffindor potentially losing a massive amount of house points over this incident made her face darken. She pouted, her expression resembling a grumpy kitten.
"Aaahhhh—" She slumped onto the table, frustratedly ruffling her hair. Her already bushy brown curls puffed up even more, looking irresistibly soft.
Without hesitation, Glenn reached out and ran his hand through her hair, smoothing it out while indulging in its texture.
?
Aren't you supposed to smooth it out while touching it? Your priorities are all wrong.
"Ugh, Glenn, Gryffindor is going to lose so many points because of this..." Hermione looked up at him pitifully. Glenn, still composed, simply nodded without offering any further response.
"Why won't you comfort me?!" Hermione widened her eyes in disbelief, snatching her hair back from his hand to stop him from touching it.
"I'm in Slytherin," Glenn replied calmly.
Hermione: ...
Well, that's so Glenn.
The little girl glanced around, seeing that everyone was still engrossed in discussing Harry's escapade and not paying attention to them. She then sneakily leaned into Glenn's arms, playfully nudging him with her head like a little fan spinning against him, whining and acting spoiled. "I don't care! You have to comfort me."
Looking at the girl, whose hair was now fluffed up like a little lion cub, Glenn thought for a moment. "If Gryffindor has you, your biggest competitor is our Slytherin house. How about I find a way to deduct some points from us to make up for the ones you might lose?"
"No, that's unnecessary. Really." Hermione gave him a deadpan look and flopped onto Glenn's lap.
As expected, I overestimated this guy. Why did I even hope for him to say something reliable?
"Quiet! Quiet! Stop discussing this!" Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect, shouted from the other end of the long table, his neck turning bright red as he tried to bring the excited Gryffindors under control. He looked on the verge of collapse.
Seeing his two mischievous younger brothers still fanning the flames, Percy couldn't help but feel a headache coming on. "You two troublemakers! Do you have any idea how much trouble this will cause for Father?!" he fumed internally.
Damn it, there's a mole, abort the deal!
Percy looked despairingly at the rowdy Gryffindor table. "Do we have no normal people in Gryffindor anymore?!" He was genuinely overwhelmed by this group of wild cubs... lion cubs.
At this moment, Percy happened to catch sight of Hermione sitting back up from Glenn's side. Their eyes met, both filled with exasperation and wisdom.
They recognized each other as kindred spirits.
Percy felt a surge of relief. Among all these younger students, he had high hopes for this studious young girl. Hermione had contributed significantly to Gryffindor's house points in the past.
She's a good kid!
He gave Hermione a thumbs-up.
The little girl, seeing this, quietly returned the gesture.
In their eyes, they shared the same sorrow.
It was merely mutual sympathy between the few sensible ones in a sea of reckless fools (sigh).
Fortunately, Dumbledore finally stepped in to restore order.
"Students, it's time to settle down." Using the Sonorus Charm, Dumbledore's voice echoed through the Great Hall, instantly silencing the noisy young wizards. Clearly, Dumbledore's warnings were far more effective.
"It seems you've all inferred something from the newspaper, haven't you?" Dumbledore winked at the students below. "While it may seem extraordinary and impressive, I hope none of you will attempt to emulate such behavior. After all, it could lead to injuries."
Gilderoy Lockhart, who had evidently overheard the earlier discussions, seized the moment to interject and draw attention to himself. "Oh, Harry certainly made quite the entrance today. He's just like me in my younger days—always drawing everyone's attention whenever I appeared, naturally dazzling," he said with his signature smile, eliciting a wave of squeals from his fans below.
The other professors at the table couldn't bear to look at the self-absorbed man. They all knew exactly what kind of person Lockhart was. Even his former head of house, Professor Flitwick, felt a bit embarrassed, while Professor McGonagall clenched her fists, resisting the urge to turn him into a slug and throw him out of Hogwarts. She whispered angrily to Dumbledore, "Albus, how could you let someone like... like Lockhart teach Defense Against the Dark Arts? You should know better than anyone what he's really like..."
Dumbledore looked helpless as he shrugged. "I had no choice. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position has been cursed—professors either meet with accidents or disappear. We simply couldn't find anyone else."
Professor McGonagall: ?!
"Are you joking, Albus?!" McGonagall slammed the table in fury and stood up.
The old tabby cat's overreaction startled Dumbledore, his beard trembling slightly.
Goodness, you really can't joke with Minerva.
Dumbledore coughed twice, signaling McGonagall to sit down, and quietly explained, "You know, Minerva, even from a bad teacher, students can learn valuable lessons—like what not to do and who not to become..."
To appease the fuming tabby cat, Dumbledore spoke at length. Once McGonagall begrudgingly accepted his reasoning, Dumbledore wiped the nonexistent sweat from his brow and sighed.
As for Gilderoy Lockhart, Dumbledore knew exactly what kind of person he was. Lockhart was a fraud who used powerful Memory Charms to erase others' memories, claiming their achievements as his own. This deception had made him famous and widely admired.
But unfortunately for Lockhart, Dumbledore was well aware of his tricks. Several of Dumbledore's old friends had fallen victim to Lockhart's Memory Charms, and when Dumbledore visited them, he immediately recognized what had happened.
To Dumbledore's surprise, Lockhart's Memory Charms were so advanced that even he couldn't undo them.
Dumbledore's gaze turned cold. Whether as a friend to his old acquaintances or as himself, he couldn't tolerate someone like Lockhart continuing to deceive the wizarding world.
Inviting Lockhart to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts was a calculated decision. Dumbledore hinted to Lockhart that teaching Harry Potter could bring him even more fame.
Overjoyed, Lockhart eagerly accepted, thinking he had seized a golden opportunity to further his reputation.
After all, who was Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived, the vanquisher of Voldemort, and a rising star in recent years.
But Dumbledore was no fool. His decision to invite Lockhart was carefully thought out.
Firstly, he wanted Harry to expose Lockhart's façade and reveal his deceitful practices to the wizarding world.
Secondly... well, Dumbledore also wanted to test whether the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was truly cursed. Would it really claim yet another professor after just one term?
With these considerations in mind, Dumbledore appointed Lockhart as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
This way, he could expose Lockhart, send him to Azkaban, and perhaps even save on his salary.
Dumbledore. Master Planner.jpg
"Dumbledore is scheming again," Glenn remarked to Hermione beside him.
"How do you know that?" Hermione tilted her head in confusion.
"Just a hunch," Glenn replied with a serious expression.
Hermione: ... Whatever makes you happy.
"But that Lockhart guy really is a bit narcissistic," Hermione commented as she took small bites of her steak after Dumbledore announced the start of the feast. "Dumbledore had already finished speaking, but he kept going on and on. I think Professor McGonagall was about to lose it."
Just as it seemed McGonagall was about to explode, Dumbledore whispered something to her. Her expression shifted, and she quickly left her seat, heading toward the dungeons with a complex look on her face.
Professor McGonagall: I don't have to listen to Lockhart's nonsense, but those two troublemakers caused so much trouble and got caught by Snape. Should I be happy or angry?
Oh well, whatever.
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