That morning, the Gryffindor students were outside the castle in the greenhouses for Herbology. Under Professor Sprout's guidance, the fourth-years were collecting pus from Bubotuber plants.
Bubotubers were extremely ugly plants, looking very much like large, black, slimy slugs. Their pus was a thick, yellow-green liquid that gave off a pungent stench.
Although they looked disgusting and their undiluted pus could harm the skin, they were highly valuable for potion-making—especially for treating stubborn acne.
At Eda's age, pimples and acne were very common.
Some students who cared about their appearance couldn't bear the thought of such blemishes making them look ugly. To restore their beauty, they tried to use magic to get rid of them—only to land themselves in the hospital wing.
If they had known about this ugly plant in front of them, they might have avoided those trips. As long as students paid attention to the proper use of Bubotubers, they could rid themselves of pimples.
Wearing dragon-hide gloves, Eda squeezed out the pus with a grimace. She wasn't particularly vain, but the Bubotuber's appearance had pushed her to her limits.
With its look and feel, Eda didn't even want to glance at it, let alone touch it. She wished she could leave the greenhouse immediately, but all she could do was stay and squeeze the pus while the stench in the greenhouse made her feel nauseated.
In short, Esmeralda Twist was in a very bad mood!
By the afternoon, Eda sat with her arms crossed in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom—or rather, what had once been a classroom.
The room was covered with portraits and photographs of Gilderoy Lockhart—half-length portraits, full-body ones, even close-ups. Whenever a student looked at one, the painted Lockhart would flash his trademark smile.
Once the class had settled down, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly to quiet the room.
The students cooperated—this was the fourth-years' very first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with him, and everyone wanted to see what sort of tricks Lockhart was going to pull.
Pointing to a giant portrait in the classroom, Lockhart began:
"I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Third-Class Order of Merlin, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—but I don't brag about that. I didn't drive away the Wailing Widow with just a smile!"
The classroom was dead silent. Apart from the Lockharts in the portraits applauding him, not a single student responded to the professor's extreme narcissism.
But Lockhart seemed unfamiliar with the meaning of "embarrassment." The students' indifference didn't faze him in the least. He kept smiling at them, his dazzlingly white teeth shining bright.
Believing his powerful smile had already eased the awkward atmosphere, he pulled out a stack of papers and began handing them around.
When he returned to the podium, he continued, "We'll start with a short quiz. You have thirty minutes to complete it. I trust you've grasped the profound magic in my books and discovered within them the path best suited to you."
Talk was cheap—but as long as he didn't pull out a wand, Lockhart was still safe enough.
Eda picked up her quill and began answering the questions:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
Answer: Lilac.
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
Answer: To rid the world of all evil—and to sell his line of hair-care potions.
…
54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday? And what is his ideal birthday gift?
Answer: January 26, 1964. His ideal gift is harmony between all magical and non-magical people—or a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky.
In total, three full pages. Other than Lockhart's die-hard fans, the only person who could answer all these questions was a top student like Eda.
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the quizzes and began flipping through them in front of the whole class. He was disappointed—these brats knew so little about him, and it made him feel somewhat hurt.
But when he came across Eda's paper, his smile returned.
"Excellent, very excellent! Miss Esmeralda Twist is truly a kindred spirit. She knows all my secrets."
Angelina and Alicia stared at Eda in surprise. This wasn't the Eda they knew. When they'd heard of Lockhart's antics before, Eda had always scoffed at him. What was going on today—had she suddenly become family with him or something?
Fred and George struggled to keep straight faces. They knew Eda too well. Just from that smile on her face, they could tell—Eda absolutely wasn't going to let Lockhart off easy.
"Full marks! And I'll even give out one of my signed photographs as a reward!" Lockhart announced. "Now, let me see—where is Miss Twist?"
Eda raised her hand, smiling up at Lockhart on the podium.
"Excellent!" Lockhart beamed. "Very good—a beautiful young lady. Ten points to Gryffindor! Now…"
It really was excellent. Hermione hadn't been wrong—answering correctly did earn house points. Since the points were already in the bag, it was time to get down to business! Eda thought to herself.
Seeing that Eda still had her hand raised, Lockhart decided to indulge what he assumed was a wish from one of his little fans. He said kindly, "Miss Twist, do you have another question? If you're hoping for a photo together, I'm afraid that'll have to wait until after class!"
Awake now—the hunt begins!
"Professor," Eda said, standing up and speaking with sincere conviction, "I heard you once said you would lead the national team to win the Quidditch World Cup. In recent years, the team's performance on the world stage has been disappointing. For the 1994 World Cup, we need you!"
Her tone was so earnest it almost seemed as if she truly were one of Lockhart's fans, genuinely hoping he would lead the team to victory.
Of course, everyone knew the so-called "Three Cats Squad," winning the World Cup? Yeah, right. Better wash up and go to bed instead.
"Ah, this…" Lockhart was momentarily at a loss for words. How did this little girl know about the tall tales he'd bragged about back when he was at school?
Seeing Lockhart struck dumb, the students quickly caught on to what Eda was trying to do, and they all waited eagerly for the show to unfold.
"Professor, you once said that after winning the World Cup trophy, you would become the youngest Minister for Magic. There's not much time left for you, but I still believe in you!" Eda said devoutly, as though she were a pilgrim and Lockhart the saint she had come to worship.
"Ah, about this…" Lockhart was shocked. He couldn't understand how this little girl knew about that, either. After thinking carefully, he was fairly sure he'd never had a classmate named Twist!
Fred and George immediately joined in the heckling, shouting loudly, "Professor, when are you going to become Minister for Magic?"
"Today!" Lee Jordan jumped in without missing a beat. "Today!"
The students burst into laughter. Everyone knew the current Minister was Cornelius Fudge, and barring some huge accident, he would be in office for quite a while yet—Lockhart never stood a chance.
Of course, it had been Lockhart's own boast that he would one day be the youngest Minister for Magic. But there was someone widely recognized as the true candidate for that title: Tom Riddle—better known as Lord Voldemort.
"Professor, last school year Hogwarts safeguarded the Philosopher's Stone, but none of us actually got to see it. I happened to hear that back when you were in school, you claimed you would create a Philosopher's Stone before graduating. Could you show us the one you made?" Eda asked.
Eda pressed on with her questions. "I believe that someone as generous as you would surely let us ignorant students catch a glimpse of the Philosopher's Stone, wouldn't you?"
Last school year, Quirrell had tried to steal the Stone—and it had been Eda and Harry who stopped him. Everyone knew that much. But none of the students had ever actually seen what the Philosopher's Stone looked like, so the whole class began clamoring with excitement.
In the wizarding world, the only known person to have ever created a Philosopher's Stone was Nicolas Flamel. Lockhart could work himself to death and still never produce one. Not to mention, the Stone had already been destroyed. And even if it hadn't, Lockhart would never have dared to meddle with it.
"Ah, this…" At that moment, Lockhart bitterly regretted ever having said so many brainless things in his youth.
As a child, Lockhart had been spoiled and adored. But when he arrived at school, he realized he was no longer the brightest of them all. The crushing gap was something he couldn't accept. Desperate to return to the center of attention, he had started making up wild boasts—and the three questions Eda had just fired at him were exactly those same boasts from his younger days.
The bigger the boast, the better—that was the point. As long as it drew eyes to him, who cared if it was possible? Never in his wildest dreams had Lockhart expected someone to actually drag out those old lies years later and demand proof.
"Professor, why aren't you saying anything?" Eda asked, her expression turning aggrieved. She looked on the verge of tears, and that pitiful sight made the whole class's hearts ache in sympathy.
Her voice now trembled with a sob as she blinked red-rimmed eyes and said, "Professor, can't you really grant a fan's wish? Or… did I make you angry?"
The students in the classroom, led on by Fred and George, began to echo Eda's words. They all started asking Lockhart when he was going to become Minister, when he would lead the national team to win the Quidditch World Cup, and whether he could show them the Philosopher's Stone.
The chatter rose higher and higher until it felt like it could blow the ceiling right off the room. Even the portraits of Lockhart scattered around the walls shrank back and hid, leaving only the real Lockhart standing stiff and dumbstruck at the front.
He seemed to have lost the ability to speak, even the ability to smile—and even his hair no longer gleamed.
At that moment, Eda finally bared her fangs. She said, "Professor, the students in this school are always questioning you. It makes me so sad. They don't realize how powerful you truly are."
For the first time, Lockhart stirred. A faint glimmer—something like hope—flickered in his eyes.
"You may not know this," Eda went on, "but I happen to have a little reputation among the students. So they made a bet with me. They said you wouldn't be able to defeat me with a spell."
She clasped her hands with solemn devotion. "Professor, for the sake of your honor, I don't mind getting hurt… everything is for the sake of your great honor. So—would you duel with me?"
The light in Lockhart's eyes immediately dimmed. To him, the world simply wasn't worth it anymore…
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