A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 88: All is Forgotten

Rita Skeeter hurriedly stopped three curious young wizards in their tracks. "Do you know where Professor Lockhart's office is? I need to speak with him," she said, flashing them a forced smile, her thoughts already far away.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at her somewhat puzzled. Why was this woman back again?

Hermione didn't respond, but she glared at Rita Skeeter with frustration. However, when Ron noticed her gaze shift to Harry, he quickly spoke up, "Next to Classroom 2 in the basement."

Satisfied, Rita Skeeter departed. As she walked along the corridor, a strange feeling lingered in her mind. The way that girl had looked at her wasn't exactly friendly.

But who cared! She wasn't anyone of importance. Rita could easily weave her into an article if she pleased.

"Ron!" Hermione's voice was exasperated.

"Listen to me, don't let Harry get involved with that woman. She'll dig up Harry's entire family history," Ron explained.

The young witch's tension eased a bit. It was then that Harry realized he seemed to have taken a whirlwind journey and come out unscathed.

...

In a dim underground corridor, Rita Skeeter's figure disappeared for a few seconds. Then, a beetle flew out from the darkness, fluttering its wings as it skillfully made its way to the side of Classroom 2 in the basement.

The beetle hovered in midair for a few seconds before staring intently at the doorplate that read "Defensive Dark Arts—Gilderoy Lockhart." Silently, it slipped through the crack in the door.

Lockhart paced around his office in circles, his expression frustrated. Even the row of portraits on the wall wore worried frowns.

The beetle landed on the edge of one of the portraits, looking down upon him.

"Damn it, #%&..."

Lockhart had lost his usual suave demeanor. He repeatedly ran his hands through his hair, his once-golden curls becoming increasingly unruly.

"Maybe I can do something about this, just like I used to. I'm quite adept at it, remarkably so..."

Lockhart muttered to his full-length portrait. The portrait Lockhart gave him a thumbs-up, showing a mouthful of white teeth.

"But what about the charge of attacking the Minister of Magic? Merlin's beard, this is absurd! It was an accident, just an accident! I won't let someone falsely accuse me, even if he is the Minister!"

"I'm not someone to be trifled with either. I have a massive readership; they'll support me."

Lockhart pondered for a while, feeling a bit reassured that he wouldn't end up in Azkaban. That lifted his spirits somewhat.

"But if my readers find out I've been deceiving them..." He shivered involuntarily.

Everything seemed to be back to square one. How was he going to deal with the trouble caused by Rita Skeeter?

Lockhart's irritability resurfaced. He regretted seeking higher book sales and agreeing to be the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts for Dumbledore.

"Old fraud!"

After a while, Lockhart sat down in his chair and began scribbling on a piece of parchment.

The beetle spread its wings and approached from another side, landing near a stack of published books. It crawled past a pristine velvet handkerchief and hid behind an exquisite narrow-necked goblet.

From this vantage point, it had a clear view of what Lockhart was writing.

"Ms. Rita Skeeter, with a calm heart..." After writing just a few words, Lockhart suddenly crumpled the parchment into a ball and fiercely hurled it away.

The paper ball knocked over the delicate goblet on the table, revealing the beetle hiding behind it.

For a brief moment, Lockhart and the beetle exchanged a gaze, a profound sense of absurdity filling their minds—its markings were identical to the gem-studded glasses of that woman, Rita Skeeter!

"How could this disgusting thing be in my room?"

Under his scrutiny, the beetle quickly made its escape.

But Lockhart didn't think much of it; he absentmindedly picked up a stack of student assignments and smacked it down.

"Smack!"

Yet the beetle remained unharmed, and in fact seemed to enjoy the game even more. It crawled to the edge of the table, took flight with a flutter of wings, and quickly distanced itself from Lockhart.

"Hey, I don't believe this!" Lockhart exclaimed, chasing after the pesky beetle.

After dodging a few times, the beetle was suddenly swatted to the ground by Lockhart. He stomped on it with his foot—

Finally, it was dealt with, and his frustrated mood lightened considerably.

Wait a moment, this sensation...

Lockhart soon realized that something was amiss. A dazzling light began to radiate from the soles of his feet, and his feet were involuntarily lifted and pushed back. A woman's head emerged, quickly followed by her limbs.

His eyes widened as he stared, and an overwhelming sense of absurdity washed over him— the patterns on her body were the exact same as the jewelry glasses worn by Rita Skeeter, the detestable woman!

"Rita Skeeter! You, you, you, you!" Lockhart was dumbfounded, his foot still on her shoulder. He retreated in fear, stumbling back and colliding solidly with the table.

Rita Skeeter lay on the ground, her face expressing embarrassment. She hadn't anticipated things would develop to this point.

Lockhart, the complete imbecile, had stumbled upon the one-in-a-million chance, and what luck was this! After years of peering into countless secrets, she was now caught by an idiot? Did he perhaps hold some prejudice against beetles?!

Meanwhile, Lockhart's expression shifted between doubt and uncertainty. His hand was reaching for his wand behind him...

He stalled for time, "Rita Skeeter! I never would've thought you were an Animagus! Merlin's beard! An illegal Animagus, sneaking into my room to spy on me..." He reached for his wand in a quick motion!

With his wand in hand, victory was already in his grasp.

But when he turned around, Rita Skeeter was already charging at him, teeth bared.

"Thud!"

Skeeter's plump body collided with Lockhart's, prompting him to emit a pained cry. They wrestled together, and the figures in Lockhart's portrait on the wall screamed in unison.

"Get off me!" Lockhart struggled desperately.

"Huff, huff!"

Rita Skeeter gained the upper hand due to her size. With one hand restraining Lockhart, the other pulled a wand from her pocket. She pointed the tip of the wand fiercely at his forehead, reciting incantations like a madwoman.

"All is forgotten!"

After a moment, Lockhart's expression grew vacant.

When he snapped out of it, Lockhart found his thoughts jumbled. "Hmm, what was I thinking about? Right, that woman Rita Skeeter. I need to write her a letter, I have to agree to her demands, or my career and reputation will be ruined."

"Merlin's beard, one trouble after another. I never should've come to Hogwarts!"

Lockhart stood up, and his office was once again neat and orderly, though the figures in the portraits on the wall looked rather listless, lacking vitality.

...

On the other side, Felix Harp, along with Dumbledore and the others, pursued them to the infirmary. Dumbledore summoned Fawkes once more, the little phoenix glancing reproachfully at its master before begrudgingly using its tears to heal Fawkes.

"At least there are no lasting effects. If news of the Minister being attacked at Hogwarts were to spread..." Madame Pomfrey poured a vial of black potion and administered it to Fawkes, whose cheeks took on a healthy hue.

"Based on what I know of the Minister, he won't divulge it," Kingsley said, "But that woman, Rita Skeeter, she's a problem!"

"Don't worry, I'll have a talk with her," Felix said calmly, studying Fawkes' complexion, and discreetly plucking a strand of its feathers.

Not that he intended to do anything with it; it was just that the opportunity was too rare.

Pluck it or not, who knew if it might come in handy later...

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