When the Blasting Curse shot from Professor Lockhart's wand reached Neville, the Iron Armor Charm that Neville had hastily cast crumbled almost instantly.
Compared to an adult wizard's magical power, a second-year student's hastily constructed Iron Armor Charm was hardly worth mentioning.
Fortunately, the Summoning Charm's hidden preparation took effect at this crucial moment.
A thunderous "BOOM" echoed through the room, as if the entire classroom trembled in response.
The explosive sound filled the space, making the students' ears ring painfully.
Professor Lockhart's spell struck the desk directly in front of Neville, and the powerful magic instantly blasted it to smithereens. Wood fragments and dust flew through the air like snowflakes.
The classroom was filled with acrid smoke and dust that lingered for a long time.
When the smoke finally cleared, everyone eagerly looked toward the front of the room.
Neville sat there, disheveled and gray-faced, his hair matted against his face, covered in dust and wood splinters, looking utterly miserable.
He appeared completely dazed, his eyes filled with terror and confusion, as if he hadn't yet processed what had just happened.
As for the desk that had been meant to block the Blasting Curse, it had been reduced to fine powder scattered across the floor.
The entire class was stunned into silence.
Many students stared at Neville with their mouths agape, their eyes filled with shock and lingering fear.
The classroom was so quiet that even breathing could be heard clearly.
It was then that Neville finally realized what had happened.
His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees on the platform with a "thud," his wand slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor.
No one laughed at him.
If that spell had actually hit Neville, he would have ended up scattered everywhere, just like the desk.
"Do you see? This is the Blasting Curse!" Professor Lockhart's eyes gleamed with delight. "This is exactly the spell I used to deal a devastating blow to the troll! Despite its massive size, when faced with an excellent wizard like myself, it ultimately had to swallow the bitter pill of defeat!"
Having said this, he turned to face the class amid their shocked stares, lifted his chin slightly, and gracefully bowed to everyone.
His lilac robes fluttered elegantly with the movement, making him appear particularly dashing.
Even more enthusiastic applause erupted—applause that contained no artifice, only the students' genuine shock and admiration.
"I believe no one will doubt the power of the Blasting Curse now. Just imagine what would have happened if that spell had hit Mr. Longbottom..."
At these words, Neville shuddered once more.
He hugged himself tightly, his eyes filled with fear.
Professor Lockhart was very satisfied with Neville's reaction and that of the other students.
"Of course, a troll's body is much more resilient than that desk. Even a dueling master like myself couldn't completely fell it with just one Blasting Curse. To learn what happened next, please read my published works. Well, that concludes today's lesson—oh, I almost forgot one thing."
With these words, he gracefully waved his wand.
The broken wooden boards and splintered desk legs were rapidly reassembled and repaired by invisible hands, instantly returning to their original intact state.
It was as if the destruction had been nothing but an illusion.
This display prompted even more enthusiastic applause from the classroom.
The young witches especially had stars in their eyes, their faces filled with wonder and worship.
Without doubt, Professor Lockhart, who had not been well-regarded initially, had successfully proven his abilities through one impressive practical demonstration after another.
When the clear bell signaling the end of class rang, the smiling Professor Lockhart left the classroom like a conquering hero, surrounded by a group of young witches who clustered around him like stars around the moon.
The other students quickly gathered around Neville.
Standing in the center of the group, Neville scratched his head somewhat awkwardly.
The young wizards began asking him about his experience in overlapping voices.
Neville's face flushed red as he stammered out honest answers.
At the crucial parts, he even gestured animatedly, causing everyone to exclaim in amazement.
Ron stood to one side, his brow furrowed deeply, his expression troubled.
"I don't understand," he said, his psychological turmoil even affecting his accent. His voice carried a note of confusion and dissatisfaction: "I admit Professor Lockhart is indeed impressive, but why does he have to act like a fool for most of every class? Can't he skip the theatrics and get straight to the point?"
"Honestly, I don't understand it either," Seamus agreed. "If he could eliminate all that useless stuff, he could compete for Hogwarts' best professor!"
"I think it's quite good this way," Parvati Patil said, crossing her arms and straightening up, openly opposing Seamus's view. "Professor Lockhart is obviously being thoughtful, wanting us to be more immersed in the experience. Don't you remember what he said? 'Only by immersing yourself in the role you're playing can you have a better experience.' If you don't believe me, just look at Longbottom."
"Hey, I think it would be sufficient even without this method."
"Hmph, you don't know how many people dream of acting alongside Professor Lockhart. You should be grateful!"
"I don't think acting with him is anything to be proud of. Only you little girls would think that!"
"Who are you calling little girls? Don't forget, the year's top student is also a girl!"
Seamus and Parvati argued back and forth.
Some of the nearby students nodded in agreement with Seamus, while others supported Parvati, cheering her on.
Then there was Ron, who seemed to thrive on chaos, fanning the flames: "Good job, Seamus! You've had intimate contact with pixies—show some spirit!"
"Parvati, your twin sister is highly trusted by Professor Lockhart in Ravenclaw. Don't let her down!"
Watching this scene, Harry shook his head and turned to Sherlock. "What do you think, Sherlock?"
For him, things weren't so complicated—when in doubt, ask Sherlock.
Sherlock had naturally observed Professor Lockhart's entire teaching process carefully, including the theatrical performance that others considered boring.
Hearing Harry's question, he packed up his supplies while speaking rapidly: "Lockhart spends about two-thirds to three-quarters of each class on performance, with the remaining time actually devoted to teaching. Whether judging by time allocation or his specific classroom behavior, he's clearly more passionate about the former. As for the practical content that everyone finds interesting, it seems more like a task he's completing."
"But that practical content is what we really need!" Harry said what all the young wizards were thinking.
If it weren't for the fact that Lockhart taught them something substantial in the final portion of each class, no one would cooperate with his foolish theatrical productions designed to promote himself.
Of course, some young witches, blinded by their idol worship, thought Lockhart radiated brilliance in everything he did.
This criticism was aimed particularly at Hermione, who had become one of the girls who clustered around Professor Lockhart after every class.
"My dear Harry, you've identified the blind spot again," Sherlock smiled slightly. "Without doubt, our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor does have real skills. But compared to teaching itself, he's more concerned with his bright public image and... the benefits hidden in the shadows."
Harry was momentarily stunned. "Benefits?"
"Remember the textbooks that were instantly torn apart in the first class? I mentioned then that Professor Lockhart showed unusual pleasure when those books were destroyed. Though the expression was fleeting, I caught it."
Sherlock imitated Lockhart's expression from that moment—mouth upturned, eyes full of satisfaction.
"I remember," Harry nodded repeatedly. "I thought it was strange at the time. It really didn't make sense—what teacher would be happy about destroying students' textbooks?"
"From an ordinary teacher's perspective, it certainly doesn't make sense," Sherlock looked at Harry, deliberately guiding his friend's thoughts. "But what if we see him as a businessman with nothing but profit on his mind?"
"Sherlock, you mean..."
Harry's face showed a thoughtful expression, followed by a flash of shock and understanding.
"For students, textbooks are necessities for learning magic. When textbooks are destroyed, students have no choice but to buy new ones. For this professor-author, every book sold represents a considerable income."
Sherlock paused here, a complex expression crossing his face. "As far as I know, after the first class ended, Professor Lockhart couldn't wait to find those poor souls whose textbooks had been destroyed."
"What did he want with them?"
"He offered to sell them a complete set of his authored works at a thirty percent discount."
Harry showed surprise again. "What? Why would he... ah, I understand!"
"You get it?"
"Yes! This way, not only wouldn't everyone feel burdened by buying books, they'd actually be grateful to Professor Lockhart for it."
"Bingo! That's exactly my deduction, Harry. Spending time with me, you're beginning to use deductive reasoning to analyze problems. So the conclusion is: Professor Lockhart isn't interested in the course itself. Teaching us is merely going through the motions. His real purpose is to gain fame and profit so his career can reach new heights."
After hearing Sherlock's explanation, Harry had a moment of realization.
So... Professor Lockhart was this kind of person?
Sherlock glanced at Harry twice but said nothing more.
Actually, he had discovered other things as well.
However, due to insufficient evidence, he didn't intend to share these speculations yet.
Now was the time to search for proof.
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