Time flew by, and the school year at Hogwarts was finally coming to an end. The Great Hall was beautifully decorated, with students gathered together. Since Gryffindor was far ahead in points, the hall was adorned with red and gold ribbons, symbolising Gryffindor's colours. Behind the main stage hung a banner featuring a majestic lion.
The atmosphere in the Great Hall was filled with joy, not only because the school year was ending and they could return home for a pleasant holiday, but also because they saw the hero they had been longing for on the main stage.
After Dumbledore's usual speech, the students, though not drowsy, were not particularly excited. They were eagerly waiting for the handsome man standing behind Dumbledore to speak.
Well, it seems my students can't wait any longer. I, an old man, can't compare to the young ones nowadays, Dumbledore joked, not minding that his students were more interested in the man behind him.
Now, let the person you've been waiting for speak. I think he is also very eager to exchange ideas with you, Dumbledore said, giving his position to the man behind him.
The students below erupted in applause.
This man was none other than Professor Lockhart, who had been away from Hogwarts for a long time.
I actually only did a small amount of work, Lockhart said on stage, displaying his elegant demeanour and charming smile. His gleaming white teeth seemed to reflect light, and he wore his signature blue forget-me-not-coloured robe, adorned with various medals and badges of honour. With each gesture, he elicited waves of cheers from students of all houses, regardless of gender.
In every culture and every nation, the worship of heroes is a basic instinct of the common people.
Well, the Slytherin students are currently an exception, because their hero's achievements were erased by the hero on the stage.
I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class—oh no, it should be Second Class now. A few days ago, the Order of Merlin asked me to upgrade my medal. Honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of the Most Charming Smile Award from Witch Weekly. Actually, these are all just titles. Among all my identities, what I am most proud of is being the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, Lockhart said, tilting his head slightly, his gaze distant, as if reminiscing about his teaching days at Hogwarts.
As soon as he finished speaking, the Great Hall erupted in applause again. Harry and Ron's hands were almost red from clapping, and they loudly cheered Lockhart's name.
Thank you for your enthusiasm, Lockhart said, making a gesture for everyone to quiet down. But due to some reasons, I can no longer teach here. I think Professor Dumbledore has already told you that my ability to cast spells has been greatly affected. As a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, which is very important for everyone's safety, I think this position requires not only good theoretical knowledge but also strong practical skills. If I could barely manage before, now I completely lack the ability.
Immediately, sighs were heard from below. The students were regretful but helpless. As for retaining him, it was just a thought. Although they were grateful to him, from the perspective of their parents and the school, they would not allow such a person to continue teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Professor Lockhart! Suddenly, someone from Gryffindor raised their hand and shouted. Many students, including Lockhart himself, looked at that person, seeing a head of fiery red hair that caught the eye.
Oh, isn't this Ron? Lockhart maintained his gentlemanly and warm smile, not annoyed by the interruption. He gestured for Ron to speak. Do you have any questions? he asked.
Speaking without much thought, but feeling a bit nervous under everyone's gaze, Ron still said: I heard that our school's Professor will retire next year due to old age. He is our Care of Magical Creatures teacher. I think you might want to try this course, he said.
Students from all houses began to discuss, hoping he could stay, except for the Slytherins.
Lockhart was a bit moved, but when he glanced at Dumbledore and saw his smiling expression, he immediately dismissed the thought.
Because he remembered something that happened when he was at St Mungo's Hospital.
Fighting the Basilisk bravely, sacrificing himself to protect the students, along with his previously accumulated good reputation in society, Lockhart naturally became the darling of various media outlets in the wizarding world. Except for a certain rather unusual magazine, almost every newspaper and journal wanted to interview him. When Lockhart finally woke up, he found himself lying on a large bed covered with a white sheet. Soon, the door opened, and Western journalists swarmed in, surrounding his bed and asking questions.
Mr Lockhart, we heard your ability to cast spells has been affected. Is this true?, they asked.
Do you regret going to teach at Hogwarts?, they asked.
What were you thinking when you saved Granger?, they asked.
How did you defeat a Basilisk that had lived for hundreds of years, maybe even longer?, theyy asked.
A barrage of questions left him even more confused, but Lockhart, who had relied on low-level magic, had a special skill—he was good at boasting.
From the sales of his plagiarised and embellished works, it was clear that he was good at storytelling. The same story told by different people can be vastly different.
Lockhart had good literary talent and a quick wit. From the few words just now, he realised that he seemed to have been made into a hero by these people, so he began to embellish, not caring whether he had actually done it, even though he only remembered fainting on Christmas.
In the blink of an eye, the Basilisk swung its huge tail, creating a whistling wind. But as you know, I could only close my eyes to fight it. My ears became the only way to judge its position... So I... Lockhart spoke eloquently and convincingly.
After his speech, all the reporters applauded his wisdom and bravery.
A reporter adjusted his glasses and said: Mr Lockhart has just woken up, we can't disturb his rest anymore. Let's end here today. I believe we will have more opportunities to interview him in the future.
The reporters nodded in agreement, said goodbye to Lockhart, and left the room together.
Lockhart lay back in bed, thinking about all this. This is not something without consequences, he thought. Previously, he dared to deceive so recklessly because of the effectiveness of the Memory Charm. But this time, the inexplicable heroic identity made him feel deeply uneasy. People always fear what they can't control, even if it seems to be a good thing at first glance.
But after holding a press conference, Lockhart suddenly felt a wave of fatigue. He decided not to think too much, take a nap first, and then consider the rest. Just as he was about to lean back and his head was about to touch the soft pillow, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a bedside table. One of the drawers was slightly open, revealing a thick stack of documents. Driven by curiosity, he opened the cabinet and took out the file-like objects.
Looking closely, Lockhart was terrified; his sleepiness vanished, and he instinctively looked towards the already locked hospital room door. Seeing no one around, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
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