A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 91: Detention and Discovery

Just a few hours ago, Ron experienced a heart-pounding journey into detention.

At eight in the evening, he nervously knocked on Professor Lockhart's door, stuttering as he explained he was there for detention.

"Is that so?" Lockhart appeared a bit under the weather. "Oh, right, of course! You little troublemaker..."

He pulled Ron into the office and pushed him into a chair.

"Hmm, as for your punishment... let me think. How can we make you sincerely repent and shed tears of gratitude, thanking the great Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Ron stared at him in astonishment. Was Lockhart's overconfidence getting even worse?

"I've got it!" Lockhart exclaimed suddenly, pulling out a stack of bulging envelopes from a cabinet in the corner of the room.

"Professor, what's this?" Ron swallowed nervously, hoping against hope...

"These are letters from enthusiastic fans. I've collected a few—my favorites! You need to copy them all out." Lockhart said triumphantly.

Things were taking a turn for the worst.

Ron felt that these letters combined were thicker than the two hefty books Malfoy had to copy.

He opened an envelope and took out the paper. The beginning read, "Dear Gilderoyo, I am your most adorable and faithful reader, Moriyaya. I fall asleep every day with your book in my arms, because it has your most charming photos. Oh, Gilderoyo, your curly hair tickles my heart, and I can't wait to have a great adventure with you in my dreams..."

"Ugh..." Ron nearly gagged.

"Are you feeling sick?" Lockhart asked him.

"N-no—"

"Alright then, start copying. This is your punishment for attacking a professor, no, it's a reward—allowing you the privilege of experiencing my greatness alongside my readers."

Lockhart's words today were surprisingly straightforward. Ron had thought he was more of a peacock, the kind that would hide its rear when opening its feathers.

But he had no choice. Ron had to force himself not to think about what the nonsense he was copying even meant. However, after just writing two lines, he felt nauseous again.

So, he shifted his focus to Lockhart, trying to distract himself, making his mind whirl to think about other things.

Two seats away from him, Lockhart was also unfolding a piece of parchment. He dipped his quill into an inkwell and started writing elaborate, flowing letters. Muttering to himself, "Merlin, I'm terribly unlucky, I have to apologize to the foolish Fudge..."

Ron spent the night in trepidation, for Lockhart seemed like a different person tonight. He didn't hold back anything, revealing many secrets.

Whether it was complaining about Dumbledore deceiving him or resenting Professor Snape stealing his limelight.

He even mentioned his school days, recalling a Valentine's Day when he spent a fortune on a heap of cards for himself, only to have it go unnoticed, leading to two months of misery...

Finally, midnight came, and Ron mustered the courage to ask if he could leave. Lockhart glanced at the clock on the wall. "Is it really this late already? Off you go, put the letters back in the cabinet, and continue tomorrow."

Ron carried the stack of letters, "huffing and puffing," to the large cabinet. He tried pulling it open, but the door wouldn't budge. "Professor Lockhart, the cabinet is locked!"

Lockhart grumbled a few words, waved his wand, and after the third attempt, the cabinet door finally popped open with a loud thud, narrowly missing Ron's nose.

Ron opened the cabinet, finding several small drawers inside. He wasn't sure where to put things, but he didn't dare ask. He had to open each drawer one by one, searching for the right spot.

As he was flipping through, he came across a piece of parchment clipped together. The top line of text caught his eye.

"Records of a Visit to an Ancient Armenian Wizard (Note: Adventure with a Werewolf)."

He skimmed through it—

"If you disregard the fact that the protagonist is an ugly, elderly Armenian wizard, the story itself is quite captivating."

There was a short passage in the middle that seemed to record someone's words. "Yes, the people in that village are miserable. They are constantly threatened by werewolves. The initial reason was that they killed a young wolf pup that had attacked their livestock. It's truly pathetic~"

Ron's heart started racing. He didn't know why, but he discreetly pulled out a few pages from the middle of the document— he didn't dare take the one on top.

Lockhart's voice echoed from afar, "What are you dawdling for?"

"J-just a moment, Professor Lockhart." Ron tucked the pages he had pulled out into his robes and then haphazardly scattered the fan letters into three different drawers before hastily closing the cabinet.

"Pr-professor, I'm leaving now." Ron quickly exited Lockhart's office.

On his way back, his heart was still pounding heavily.

Back in the common room, which was nearly deserted by now, he hid in a corner and carefully read the three pieces of parchment he had taken out.

After reading for a while, he felt somewhat puzzled. Although the content of the story seemed somewhat familiar, it was just a regular interview.

Did Lockhart also work as a journalist?

Ron returned to his dormitory and saw Harry already asleep. He casually stuffed the parchment into a book and went to sleep.

Over the next week, the atmosphere at Hogwarts was peaceful and serene.

With no worries about attacks and no exam stress, young wizards and witches enjoyed a dream-like weekend.

Hermione finally removed her mask, now only needing to wear a hat to cover her cat ears. She looked completely normal, and she breathed in the fresh air in deep gulps. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, but she had no intention of putting on a scarf.

"Lavender thought I had some terminal illness," Hermione said, taking deep breaths. She looked at Ron.

"Who's Lavender?" Ron asked.

"She's my roommate."

Ron imagined for a moment and uncertainly asked, "Is she the one with freckles all over her face?"

"Not her, Ron. I thought you'd remember the wizards in our year at Gryffindor." Hermione retorted sharply.

"I remember, it's just a face I can't put to the name. Do you know Dean Thomas?" Ron asked in response.

"Of course!"

"Have you talked to him?"

Hermione tightly shut her lips.

That evening, Felix Harp guided Hermione through the process of enhancing a bead bag.

Felix looked intrigued as he examined the parchment in his hand. "You intend to create extra compartments inside? For storage purposes? It's a good attempt, but it also increases the complexity."

"Professor, do you think I can manage it at my level?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm... If you want to do it on your own, you'll need at least—" Felix thought for a moment, "You'll need to study 21 practical magical scripts in a targeted manner, become proficient in crafting specific magical circuits, and also have a basic understanding of alchemical theories."

"I can compile a reading list for you."

Felix rapidly wrote down a series of reference books, and Hermione's mouth suddenly turned bitter...

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