Chapter 180. Restart the Duelling Club
A few days later.
The Basilisk was still nowhere to be found. It had neither been discovered nor returned to the Chamber of Secrets—most likely it had settled in some abandoned pipe somewhere.
Even so, Adrian Wesson had a nagging feeling that things were far from that simple.
This was not merely a case of some "Heir" unleashing a Basilisk to sow panic at Hogwarts.
There might be a far more complicated story behind it.
Of course, with the Basilisk not yet caught, Wesson naturally had no way to be sure what had actually happened.
In the blink of an eye, the Easter holidays were already half over.
That morning, Professor McGonagall came to find Wesson.
"You're saying we're to restart the Duelling Club?" Wesson looked at Professor McGonagall in surprise. "Why?"
Professor McGonagall nodded. "To give the students some ability to protect themselves, and also to divert their attention and tire them out a bit. As you know, management has become much stricter lately, and the students are rather… full of complaints."
Wesson nodded thoughtfully.
Prolonged repression was indeed bad for the students' mental health.
Holding some appropriate activities could also ease the school's anxious atmosphere.
Perhaps because the last Duelling Club had gone over fairly well thanks to Wesson's involvement, Professor McGonagall had made this suggestion.
"I'm not personally against it," Wesson said, then changed tack. "But… wasn't this Lockhart's club? You should ask him."
Yes—if it were to be restarted, Lockhart's opinion should be solicited first.
Of course, his opinion didn't really carry weight; it was just a formality.
"He agreed," Professor McGonagall said, pushing up her glasses with a remark Wesson hadn't expected: "In fact, Professor Lockhart says he's recently been… seized by inspiration and needs to concentrate on writing his new book. He especially recommends that you take charge of the Duelling Club."
Wesson froze for a moment.
Lockhart recommending him?
To be honest, that was very strange.
After all, although Lockhart was outwardly friendly to him, Wesson knew they didn't truly get on. Wesson had made Lockhart look foolish quite a few times; Lockhart was bound to bear a grudge.
Like the time at the Quidditch match when Wesson took his wand, or at the first Duelling Club when Wesson stole his thunder.
He hadn't expected Lockhart to recommend him.
Hm. Perhaps Lockhart was broad-minded after all. Wesson couldn't help but see him in a new light.
If Wesson had been in Lockhart's position, he certainly wouldn't have recommended himself.
In the end, Wesson accepted the job of running the Duelling Club.
As a matter of fact, he did have some ideas for it; after all, the little gathering he'd hosted over the Christmas holidays had gone very well.
For the remainder of the Easter holidays, the Duelling Club met once every two days.
This time, many professors who hadn't come before took part in several of the meetings—Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout among them.
Wesson had always thought they weren't interested.
Even Albus Dumbledore turned up to watch the fun.
Lockhart also showed his face a few times, but no longer did anything particularly conspicuous; he behaved like an ordinary person, simply watching quietly from the side.
In Professor Flitwick's words, it was "like a gaudily plumed peacock suddenly losing all interest in fanning its tail."
Wesson was happy enough with that.
In short, all the Duelling Club gatherings went very smoothly.
One evening, after the final meeting ended, Dumbledore stayed behind and said to Wesson, "Professor Wesson, keep Wednesday after dinner free—we're going to meet someone."
"Who?" Wesson asked.
"Someone from the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore said as if it were nothing at all.
The Ministry, eh? Wesson understood at once.
It must be related to the recent Petrification incidents.
In the original storyline, the Ministry had even taken Hagrid away over this, and the Board of Governors had dismissed Dumbledore from the Headmaster's post—on paper, at least.
What puzzled Wesson was: why bring him along?
He couldn't very well reverse the course of events.
Soon enough, Wednesday evening arrived.
Wesson specially picked out a dark green suit and a top hat.
When Dumbledore saw how he was dressed, he couldn't help frowning. "Wesson, what is this?"
"Hm?"
Wesson adjusted his collar and asked offhandedly, "Too formal, Professor Dumbledore? This is the smartest outfit I could put together. And most importantly—"
"What?" Dumbledore's brow furrowed more tightly.
"Green suits my aesthetic better," Wesson blinked. "Should I change into robes instead? Honestly, I'm not fussy about clothes. Ah, I do prefer robes—the things I'm wearing now are a bit uncomfortable."
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly.
"All right—good taste," he said, nodding. "But we'd best hurry. Our guest will be here any minute."
"Where are we going?" Wesson asked.
Dumbledore led Wesson straight to the entrance of the Great Hall.
A stranger was standing there alone.
He was a short, portly man in a black suit with a matching top hat. His face was lined with wrinkles; he looked to be about fifty.
Wesson found his face faintly familiar.
He'd seen him somewhere before.
The man quickly noticed Dumbledore and Wesson approaching and came forward at once.
"Ah, there you are at last, Albus," the man removed his hat and said with a smile. "You received my letter, didn't you?"
Then the man turned his head towards Wesson, his tone a touch uncertain. "And this is…"
"Professor of Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts," Dumbledore nodded slightly, adding, "an outstanding young man, Cornelius."
"Adrian Wesson," Wesson said, giving his name and extending his hand.
"Ah! How do you do, Professor Wesson," the man grasped his hand warmly. "I'm the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
Wesson then remembered why he found him familiar.
He often saw this Minister's photograph in The Daily Prophet.
Anything about Cornelius Fudge in the paper always came with a very large picture.
In real life, however, this was the first time he'd met him.
After the greetings—
"Albus, you know why I'm here, don't you? I wrote it in my letter. I'm here to…"
At this point Fudge cast a sidelong glance at Wesson.
"You can speak frankly," Dumbledore said calmly. "Professor Wesson is not an outsider."
At that, Fudge let out a small breath of relief and gave Wesson a faintly surprised look.
Wesson smiled at him.
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