## Chapter 220: Seeking Guidance
Wade was a little surprised to be suddenly grabbed by Lockhart. He blinked, and before he could speak, a photo frame was forcefully thrust into his hand.
In the photo, Lockhart, dressed in golden wizard robes, was walking around, occasionally flashing his proud smile, his teeth dazzlingly white.
Lockhart's unique, flamboyant signature adorned the bottom right corner, and he playfully drew a flower at the end.
"Here, this is what you've always wanted."
Lockhart draped an arm over Wade's shoulder without a word, holding his own photo with him, and enthusiastically said, "Smile, Wade!"
*Click!* A black camera captured the moment.
A faint white smoke dissipated, and Wade squinted, looking forward.
When the bulky camera was lowered, the face revealed wasn't Gryffindor's Colin Creevey, but Rolf Scamander.
The boy blinked slightly, and Wade also broke into a genuine smile.
"Thank you, Rolf!"
Lockhart patted Rolf's shoulder and said affectionately, "Once the photos are developed, don't forget to send me a copy. This is your payment."
He handed Rolf a signed photo of himself.
"Okay, Professor! Thank you, Professor!"
Rolf, with the camera hanging around his neck, took the photo with both hands, looking very pleased.
"If you ever want another picture, just find me, Wade!"
Lockhart turned and called out loudly to Wade, "You know, you're one of my favorite students, I wouldn't refuse such a small request!"
After reiterating his intentions and ensuring that the surrounding students had clearly heard and solidified the impression of their "close teacher-student relationship," Lockhart saw a faint sneer on Wade's lips and didn't dare wait for his reply. He pushed through the surrounding students and hurried away.
A group of girls bravely chased after him.
"Professor, please sign for me too!"
"Professor, I want a signed photo too!"
Lockhart hadn't gone far before he was surrounded by the girls. He happily pulled out his Quill and began signing with great enthusiasm.
Only then did Rolf lean closer to Wade.
"I saw Professor Lockhart looking for Gryffindor's Creevey to be the photographer, and knowing you don't like that kind of thing, I offered to help."
He whispered, "I'll destroy the film when I get back. If he asks, I'll just say it was accidentally exposed to light and the film was ruined."
"No, give me the photo."
Wade smiled and said, "I'll take it to Professor Lockhart."
Rolf blinked confusedly, then, seeing Wade's meaningful sneer, obediently agreed, "Okay."
...
In the afternoon, Wade got the photo.
The magical photograph was black and white. Wade saw Lockhart, with his messy hair, shrinking in a corner, panting, while he himself was nowhere to be seen in the picture.
Wade searched carefully for a while before finding a piece of a robe hem in the corner.
Compared to himself, the other students in the picture were much more prominent.
For example, Fred; Wade saw him repeatedly pulling out his money bag and shaking it, sharing a sly smile with George in the photo.
Wade, holding this photo that barely resembled a joint picture, and with the camera hanging from his shoulder, walked towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
When Quirrell was still at school, Wade had never actively approached this area, but during classes, he always inevitably passed by, so he knew where it was.
There was no Defense Against the Dark Arts class this afternoon, so Wade knocked on the door, and it was quickly opened.
Lockhart probably thought it was one of his admirers outside, as he was still holding a Quill ready to sign, and he was visibly surprised when he saw Wade.
"Ah, Wade... it's you..."
When their gray eyes met, Lockhart instinctively avoided eye contact, feeling suddenly a little guilty.
"I've come to deliver the photo, Professor."
Wade shook the photo. As Lockhart let out a sigh of relief, Wade added, "Also, I'd like to ask you about some Defense Against the Dark Arts knowledge."
"Oh, oh, is that so? Then come in."
The blond professor's smile returned to his face.
He's just a child, after all.
He thought with ease.
Wade walked in, then, with a *BANG*, closed the door.
Lockhart's heart suddenly constricted. He turned his head and saw that Wade was already holding his Wand.
"There are some parts of the Disarming Charm you demonstrated at the club that I don't quite understand. Could you perhaps demonstrate it again?"
The black-haired boy asked softly.
"Hmm… well… uh… of course…"
Lockhart's gaze followed the photo as Wade held onto it, and seeing that Wade had no intention of giving it to him, he finally agreed reluctantly.
He pulled out his wand, a faint unease in his heart, but then, remembering the young student before him was also Alchemist, he suddenly felt reassured.
Alchemist… even if they've mastered a couple of Notice-Me-Not Charms or similar spells, their magical ability can't be all that great, can it?
Just like himself, only the Obliviation Charm was truly proficient… but no matter how poor his Defense Against the Dark Arts spells were, he couldn't possibly be worse than a second-year student…
...
Michael checked the time, said goodbye to his other friends, and climbed the marble staircase to the third floor. He pressed his ear against Lockhart's office door, but heard nothing.
He asked a question in the Book of Friends, but Wade didn't reply.
Michael sighed, drew his wand, pointed it at the doorknob, and whispered, "*Alohomora!*"
The doorknob clicked and turned, opening the door.
As Michael barely pulled the door open a crack, he heard a loud *bang!* followed by a series of crackling sounds.
He flinched, pulling his neck back. Only when the sounds gradually faded did he cautiously peek inside.
The floor was littered with shattered bottles, jars, and countless photo frames. The Lockharts in the photos were all hiding in corners, trembling in fright.
Lockhart himself was slumped in the corner, eyes tightly shut, his face bruised and swollen, even stained with blood, and a large splash of green ink across his chest.
Michael's eyes widened. He quickly slipped into the office and closed the door, asking in a hushed voice, "Is he still alive?"
As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeves, as if ready to help dispose of a body.
Wade, who had been about to ask why he was being so sneaky, couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"Of course not. I was just asking the professor about the Disarming Charm. Professor Lockhart… he taught me very diligently."
He said casually, raising his camera and taking a photo of Lockhart.
The flash went off. Lockhart, by reflex, smiled, then seemed to realize his current pathetic state was absolutely unfit for the media. He groaned in pain.
Hearing his voice, Michael finally relaxed.
"I thought you'd gotten rid of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…" he whispered.
"How could I?" Wade said. "It's not easy for Professor Dumbledore to find us a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It's just, Professor…"
He half-crouched down, and Lockhart immediately scrambled backward.
Wade said politely, "I personally don't like my photos appearing in any newspaper or magazine, nor do I wish to be associated with a big celebrity like yourself… Can you understand how I feel?"
Lockhart clutched the wound on his forehead, looking at him in terror. His gaze then swept over the camera and photos in Wade's hand, and he nodded quickly.
"Thank you for your understanding."
The "group photo" in Wade's hand suddenly burst into flames. In the blink of an eye, only a small pile of black ash remained, falling onto the messy floor.
"Well then, we'll take our leave… Dinner time is almost here anyway. Thank you very much for your diligent instruction today, Professor Lockhart."
Wade stood up, looking at the disheveled Lockhart lying on the floor, and said softly,
"I hope the professor takes good care of himself. If there's another opportunity, I'd like to learn more spells from you."
This is a threat, isn't it? This is definitely a threat! Michael thought, Look at Professor Lockhart, he looks like he's about to cry from fright!
He muttered this to himself, but in truth, he felt no sympathy for Lockhart at all.
The two turned. Michael stepped over two photo frames and reached out to pull the door open.
For some reason, Wade walked a little slower.
Behind them, Lockhart's eyes flickered, watching the student wipe his wand twice and put it back into his pouch.
He endured the pain, as if every bone in his body had been shattered, and with difficulty, reached out and grasped his own wand.
He hesitated for a moment, then, just as the two were about to walk out, he finally raised his wand and shouted—
"*Obliviate—*"
"*Bang!*"
He didn't even see how Wade attacked; he just felt as if a rhinoceros had charged him head-on in the chest. He flew backward, hitting the wall with a *splat* like a pancake, then slowly slid down.
His nose felt broken, and the intense, sharp pain immediately brought tears to Lockhart's eyes. But he still struggled to keep his eyes open and look—
Wade indeed had no wand in his hand.
He pointed a single finger at Lockhart, his expression seemingly unsurprised. Michael, on the other hand, was both shocked and furious.
"No need to see us out, Professor."
Lockhart heard his student say, from above him, "You've truly been a bother today."
Footsteps shuffled away, and the office door closed with a *bang*.
"That's despicable!"
As soon as they were out the door, he heard Michael say angrily, "A professor, ambushing someone! And with the Obliviation Charm! That's illegal!"
Wade mumbled something in a low voice, followed by Michael's curses.
It was as if Michael were the one who'd been wronged.
The voices quickly faded until they were completely inaudible.
Lockhart wiped the nosebleed from his face. For the first time, he disregarded his perfect image, his head buzzing.
He felt like he might have a concussion.
But more importantly—
Nonverbal, wandless magic... Is that really something a twelve-year-old can do...?
Only one chapter today.
I need to reorganize my outline.
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