Back home, Arthur repeated to Hermione the same analysis he had shared earlier with Draco.
Hermione thought back to Lockhart's demeanor at Flourish and Blotts.
She had to admit, the man probably was a fraud.
A strange emptiness welled up inside her — the hollow sensation of an idol shattering.
Seeing her downcast expression, Arthur couldn't resist teasing her further.
"I've got more bad news for you. Guess who our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is this year?"
Hermione froze. "It couldn't be… him?" she asked in disbelief.
"Mm-hm. Correct answer — but no reward."
Hermione cried out in despair:
"Oh no! My Defense Against the Dark Arts! Am I doomed to learn nothing again this year?"
Last year, at least, Quirrell had been tolerable.
He was a fellow Ravenclaw graduate and genuinely brilliant — perfectly competent as an academic mentor.
But since he had to disguise himself, he acted timid, even pretended to stammer.
His lessons were dry, just following the textbook.
Hermione always felt self-study was more efficient — and if she encountered difficulties, she could ask her cousin.
This year, however, things were even worse.
The professor was a conman.
She was already preparing to self-study the subject entirely.
Arthur, sipping his afternoon tea leisurely, offered:
"Look at it differently. This guy loves vanity. Just flatter him a little, and you'll rack up extra credit. Maybe even get borrowing privileges for the Restricted Section."
At Hogwarts, that part of the library required a professor's signed authorization.
Not that Arthur cared. His iPad had already scanned the entire Restricted Section, and in fact, his digital copy was safer.
You never knew which cursed defenses might lurk in those books.
Harry, for instance, had once stumbled on one — he'd opened a volume only for a face to scream out of the pages, shrieking loudly enough to summon Filch and force him to flee.
Arthur's words gave Hermione an idea.
She still remembered much of Lockhart's books.
If he referenced them in class, she could easily answer.
Yes — this year's House Cup was as good as hers!
Just then, Ranni, nibbling on tea cakes, spoke up suddenly:
"So, since Voldemort placed a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, why doesn't Hogwarts just cancel the course and replace it with another?"
Arthur clapped his hands.
"As expected of my princess. I've always wondered the same thing. Why don't we ask Professor Snape? He's right next door."
The proposal met with unanimous agreement.
So the three of them immediately set off to visit.
In Snape's living room, Leah served them tea and snacks.
Arthur explained their idea, and Snape's expression turned into a silent "You can do that?"
It was true. The wizarding world was stagnant, a pond with no ripples.
Even textbooks had gone unchanged for centuries.
Most wizards were mired in inertia, clinging to the past without innovation.
Still, with Voldemort's return, things were bound to get lively.
And Arthur looked forward to stirring the pot himself.
Snape mulled over the suggestion, then suddenly darted off in excitement to write to Dumbledore.
Hermione, baffled, asked:
"Why's Professor Snape so eager?"
Arthur explained:
"He's been eyeing that position for years. But Dumbledore, worried he might be harmed, never let him have it."
Hermione nodded in understanding.
Not long after, Snape returned. Since there wasn't much else to do, everyone decided to wait for Dumbledore's reply together — effectively turning it into an impromptu tea party.
Well, Arthur and the girls had declared it a tea party; Snape hadn't exactly agreed.
But since Ranni seemed to enjoy Leah's refreshments, Snape decided not to object.
Soon, Dumbledore's reply arrived.
Snape took the letter from the owl, opened it, and his face shifted from eager expectation to gloomy disappointment in an instant.
Watching from the side, Arthur couldn't help but marvel.
Could it be that Hogwarts staff had gone on a cultural tour of Sichuan and Chongqing?
Professor McGonagall always gave him the impression of an old matron.
Professor Snape, apparently, could "change faces" like a Sichuan opera master.
So what was Dumbledore's hidden art? A sweet tooth clashing with Sichuanese spice?
Clearly, judging from Snape's expression, things hadn't gone well.
"How did it go?" Arthur asked curiously.
Snape tossed him the letter in frustration.
Arthur took it, with Hermione and Ranni leaning in to read.
The gist was: the suggestion could be considered, but since a new professor had already been hired, any change in appointment would have to wait until next year.
In the meantime, why not try renaming the subject? Did Snape have any suggestions?
Not only had Dumbledore refused him the position, he'd even asked him to brainstorm new names for the course.
This wasn't just rejection — it was salt in the wound.
"Cheer up. Who knows? Next year the post might be yours," Arthur said consolingly.
"But what if the new professor manages to last more than a year? Then it'll never be mine," Snape muttered bitterly.
"You don't have to worry about that. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year is a complete fraud."
Snape: "???"
"I don't even know this. Where did you get your information?"
"Diagon Alley. He was holding a signing there today. I'm sure tomorrow's Daily Prophet will cover it."
Knowing Lockhart, he'd definitely announce his Hogwarts appointment — he lived for that kind of publicity.
At the mere mention of a signing, Snape instantly realized who it was.
Ever since he'd moved here, partly to keep Leah from being too bored and partly to expand her knowledge of the magical world, he'd subscribed to the Daily Prophet.
And a week ago, that very paper had advertised Lockhart's upcoming signing.
If he was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Snape had no need to worry.
A few anonymous reports to the Ministry would see him gone in no time.
Arthur, almost as if reading his mind, suddenly asked:
"Say, if you get rid of Lockhart, does that count as the curse being broken — or not?"
Snape froze.
He hadn't thought about it that way.
What then — would he really have to let that peacock keep his dream post for another year just to prove the curse still stood?
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