Chapter 112 Dobby: The Version Update Didn't Call Me
"Your Majesty ambushed a teacher, tyrant points +5."
Lockhart screamed and ran towards the Hospital Wing.
His right hand, like putty, floated behind him; at first glance, one might have thought he was cosplaying Naruto.
Harry sat on the ground, looking at Charlie.
Although he didn't know what had happened, only Charlie possessed such powerful abilities at the scene.
"Thank you, Charlie," Harry said sincerely.
Charlie waved his hand.
"It's nothing."
Ron and Fred quickly helped Harry up and walked towards the Hospital Wing.
Although his arm wasn't boneless like Lockhart's, a fracture was still a serious injury.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle.
"Match over!"
"Hufflepuff 200:20 Gryffindor, Hufflepuff wins!"
It turned out that while Harry was entangled by the Bludger, Cedric had already snatched the golden snitch.
He added 150 points to Hufflepuff and ended the game.
Wood protested wildly nearby, but it was useless.
Cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff stands.
Cedric flew on his broom to Charlie, his face full of joy.
Charlie gave him a thumbs up.
Well done, make your sugar daddy proud.
At this moment, the Bludger lay quietly by the edge of the marsh.
Its black surface reflected a faint glow.
Charlie squatted down, staring at the Bludger.
The situation just now was very strange.
The Bludger relentlessly pursued Harry, which was completely illogical.
Someone must have cursed the Bludger.
But the problem was, Charlie didn't sense any magic fluctuations.
Although Charlie's magic knowledge came entirely from the system, it was genuine, accumulated point by point.
Even with a Professor, Charlie could detect magic fluctuations during spellcasting.
But this time, there was nothing.
He had only seen this kind of situation with Billy.
At that time, Billy said that Goblin magic and Wizard magic belonged to different systems.
So, it couldn't be sensed.
Charlie narrowed his eyes.
Could it be a House-elf in the Castle?
...In the Hospital Wing, the bitter smell of Potion permeated the air.
Harry lay on the bed, his left arm throbbing with pain.
The broken bone was healing, and it felt like countless ants were crawling inside his bone.
Madam Pomfrey stood by the bed, her face terrifyingly grim.
"Such dangerous activities should be canceled!"
Her tone was full of blame.
"What are these Professors doing, letting Little Wizardss get hurt!"
Harry shrank his neck.
"I'm sorry, Madam."
Although he felt he hadn't done anything wrong, he thought it better to quell Madam Pomfrey's anger.
Madam Pomfrey sighed and took a bottle of Potion from the cabinet.
"Drink it."
Harry took the Potion, pinched his nose, and gulped it down.
The Potion tasted even worse than he imagined, like rotten eggs mixed with dirt.
He almost threw up.
Just then, a piercing scream came from the next bed.
"Ah! It hurts! It hurts so much!"
Lockhart lay on the bed, curled up in a ball.
His right arm dangled limply over the side of the bed, completely unsupported by bone.
Madam Pomfrey had given him Skele-Gro.
But the process of bone regeneration was extremely painful.
Lockhart's face was flushed red, and large beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
"Madam! I'm going to die! I'm really going to die!"
He cried out, his face covered in tears and snot.
Harry lay on the bed, watching Lockhart's pathetic state.
Before, Lockhart always boasted in class about how powerful and brave he was.
But now, he couldn't even endure a little pain.
Hermione stood at the door.
Her face was filled with disappointment.
"So he really doesn't know anything."
Ron sneered beside her.
"I told you, he's just a good-for-nothing."
"And you didn't believe me."
Hermione pursed her lips, not refuting him.
She turned her head and looked at Harry.
"Harry, how are you feeling?"
Harry moved his left arm.
"Much better, just a little sore."
Ron walked to the bedside.
"Don't overthink it, losing the match isn't your fault."
"That Bludger was clearly tampered with."
Harry sighed.
"But if I had gotten the golden snitch first, would Gryffindor have won?"
Ron patted his shoulder.
"You did your best."
Harry gave a wry smile.
"Thank you, both of you."
Madam Pomfrey walked over.
"All right, Mr. Potter needs to rest."
"You two go back now."
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, then turned and left.
The Hospital Wing became quiet again.
Only Lockhart's wails continued.
Harry lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
His mind was a mess.
In the afternoon, sunlight streamed through the Hospital Wing window.
Madam Pomfrey examined Harry's arm and nodded with satisfaction.
"Recovering well."
She put away her wand.
"You can go back, but don't do any strenuous exercise for the next two days."
Harry sat up from the bed and moved his left arm.
The bone had completely healed, but it was still a bit sore.
He thanked her and left the Hospital Wing.
The corridor was quiet.
The students were all in the common room or the library.
Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower and pushed open the dormitory door.
Ron and the others weren't there.
They must have gone to dinner.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed and took off his jacket.
His arm was still throbbing faintly, and he rubbed it.
Just then, a faint popping sound came from the air.
Pop.
Harry whipped his head around.
A House-elf stood in the center of the room.
With green eyes the size of tennis balls, bat-like ears, and wearing a ragged pillowcase.
Harry recognized this as the House-elf who had stopped his mail during the summer holidays.
His face instantly darkened.
"Dobby."
He stood up and took a few steps back.
"What are you doing here?"
"Stay away from me!"
Tears immediately welled up in Dobby's large eyes.
"Mr. Harry Potter!"
His voice was high-pitched and tearful.
"Why did Harry Potter not listen to Dobby and go home!"
"Dobby thought his Bludger could..."
Harry froze.
His Bludger?
Anger surged instantly.
"Your Bludger?"
Harry's voice rose, almost a shout.
"That Bludger was your doing?"
"You wanted to kill me?"
Dobby jumped back in fright.
"No, no, no!"
He shook his head frantically, his ears flapping against his head.
"Dobby didn't want to kill Mr. Harry Potter."
"Dobby just wanted Mr. Potter to get a little hurt, so Mr. Potter would be sent home."
"Away from the dangers of Hogwarts."
Harry was trembling with rage.
"Dangers?"
"You are the biggest danger I've encountered at school."
Dobby covered his face, crying even harder.
"Dobby just wanted to protect Mr. Harry Potter."
"Hogwarts is too dangerous."
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened..."
"Enough!"
Harry interrupted him.
"Don't you know the Chamber of Secrets has already been found by Charlie?"
"The Basilisk is also scared and dares not come out."
Dobby's eyes widened.
When did the version update? How come I don't know?
Harry stared at him.
The anger was still burning, but he forced himself to calm down.
"Dobby."
He took a deep breath.
"Who exactly are you? Who is your master?"
Dobby stiffened.
He lowered his head, his ears drooping.
"Dobby cannot say."
His voice became shaky.
"Dobby cannot betray his master."
Harry took a step forward.
"You must tell me."
Dobby shook his head.
"Dobby cannot say, Dobby cannot betray his master's family, even though his master's family is rotten to the core."
After saying that, he suddenly showed a remorseful expression, then rushed towards the wall.
Bang!
His head hit the wall.
Harry jumped in surprise.
"What are you doing?!"
Dobby hit it again.
"Bad Dobby! Daring to speak ill of his master, bad Dobby!"
Harry stood still, watching Dobby frantically self-harm.
The anger in his heart gradually extinguished by Dobby's miserable state.
Just then, footsteps came from outside the door, seemingly Neville returning.
Dobby frantically warned Harry.
"Dobby must leave."
"But Dobby still needs to warn Harry Potter."
"The danger is not over."
"Harry Potter must be careful."
Then he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Pop.
He vanished from in front of Harry.
Chapter 113 Duel Club
It was dinner time in the Great Hall.
The long tables were laden with food.
Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin juice, their aromas mingled together.
Charlie sat at the Hufflepuff long table, poking his steak with a fork.
He cut off a piece and put it in his mouth.
The gravy burst on his tongue.
A group of Little Wizardss swarmed over.
They surrounded Charlie, chattering excitedly.
"Charlie, where can I buy that flying sword?"
"I want one too."
"Yes, yes, I want one too."
Charlie put down his knife and fork and looked up.
The crowd was filled with excited faces.
There were Hufflepuff students, and students from other houses.
Even a few Ravenclaw students seemed interested.
Draco was also in the crowd.
He held his head high, feigning disinterest, but his eyes kept darting to the flying sword on Senior Jenny's back.
Charlie glanced at him.
"You all want one?"
The Little Wizardss nodded frantically.
Charlie leaned back in his chair.
"The Flying Witch store in Hogsmeade sells them."
"You can go there to buy one."
The Little Wizardss' eyes lit up.
"We must buy one next time we go to Hogsmeade."
"But what if we're second-years and can't go to Hogsmeade?"
"Stupid, just find a third-year to buy it for you."
Charlie suddenly remembered something.
He had funded the research and development of the flying sword.
Shouldn't the Flying Witch store give him a cut for selling them?
He narrowed his eyes.
This money couldn't just slip away.
Charlie turned his head to look at Draco.
"Draco."
Draco paused, then walked over grudgingly.
"Is there something you need, Charlie?"
He still had a psychological shadow from Charlie.
"The Potion Mr. Lucius requested is ready; you can tell him he can come to the school to pick it up."
"Also, I funded the research and development of the flying sword, and I'd like Mr. Lucius to help me out by negotiating the profit share for me."
Draco blinked.
"Is that all?"
"Then I'll write to my father."
He turned to leave.
Just then, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked over.
Harry's face was a bit pale, and his left arm was still bandaged.
Charlie looked at him.
"Harry, do you also want to buy a flying sword?"
Harry shook his head.
"No."
He took a deep breath.
"I have something to tell you."
Harry recounted Dobby's story from beginning to end.
Charlie listened, his brow furrowing slightly.
"What's that House-elf's name?"
Harry paused.
"Dobby."
Draco spun around sharply.
"What?"
His voice rose, his face filled with shock.
"Dobby?"
Draco's face instantly flushed red.
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
"Dobby is my family's House-elf!"
Charlie was also stunned.
Dobby belonged to the Malfoy family?
His mind raced.
Dobby warned Harry that the school was in danger.
His source of information was likely from his master, the Malfoy family.
After all, House-elves rarely interact with anyone other than their owners.
The diary matter was definitely related to Lucius.
Charlie looked at Draco.
The shock on his face didn't seem faked.
He probably wasn't aware.
But what was Lucius's goal?
Harry exploded when he heard Draco's words.
"You're Dobby's master, so you're the one who released the Basilisk!"
Draco's face turned red with anger, but strictly speaking, he really was the one who released the Basilisk.
And the diary also resembled the one his father treasured.
Draco suddenly felt a little guilty.
But he absolutely couldn't admit it.
He sneered.
"Potter, did a Bludger smash your brain?"
"If I knew how to control a Basilisk, you'd be the first one I'd have it bite to death."
Harry glared at Draco resentfully.
"Dumbledore should expel you!"
He truly hated Draco at this moment; if it weren't for that diary, Dobby wouldn't have sought him out during the summer, he wouldn't have missed his friends' letters, he wouldn't have been blocked outside the station at the start of term, and he wouldn't have been injured in the match.
Draco didn't show any weakness either.
"Expel me?"
"My father is a school governor; Dumbledore doesn't have that authority."
"You're the one who should be expelled, Potter."
Charlie immediately understood upon hearing this.
Lucius placed the diary in the school.
The diary would release the Basilisk.
If the Basilisk killed even one student, the Principal would be held responsible.
Lucius, as a school governor, could then seize power.
Coupled with the Ministry of Magic's search for Dark Arts objects during the summer.
The diary was a big problem for Lucius as well.
Furthermore, Lucius giving the diary to Ginny could also get the Weasley family into trouble.
It was a plan that killed three birds with one stone.
Charlie narrowed his eyes.
This partner's cunning was deeper than he had imagined.
But the problem was, Lucius's actions affected him.
He was supposed to have a relaxed and easy semester.
Now he had to guard against the Basilisk.
Charlie made a note about Lucius in his little book.
The two had a huge argument, neither able to get the better of the other; Draco was guilty, and Harryhad no evidence, so it could only be left unresolved.
A week passed.
Charlie would carry a Rooster around the Castle every day.
He wanted to find the Basilisk.
But perhaps there were too many Roosters, making the Basilisk afraid to approach the Castle.
Charlie never found any trace of the Basilisk.
The corridors, classrooms, and Great Hall of the Castle were filled with the sound of Roosters crowing.
The students had grown accustomed to this environment.
Some even started developing the habit of waking up to the sound of Roosters.
Charlie walked through the entrance hall; a crowd had gathered in front of the bulletin board.
Students were squeezed together, chattering and discussing something.
Ernie saw Charlie and excitedly ran over.
"Charlie, did you see the notice on the bulletin board?"
"The school is holding a dueling club, for dueling people, I wonder if there are any conditions to participate."
"You want to learn dueling?"
"Of course, if you don't know dueling techniques, you'll be at a disadvantage when fighting others."
Charlie recalled Professor Flitwick's skills from last year.
That "Instant Hell Murder Array" move was very impressive, but he still hadn't drawn Apparition, so he couldn't replicate it.
If Professor Flitwick were teaching, it might be worth checking out.
Evening quickly arrived.
The Great Hall had been transformed into a dueling arena.
The long tables had all been pushed against the walls.
A huge stage was set up in the center.
A golden carpet covered the stage.
Students surrounded it.
Charlie stood in the Hufflepuff line.
He looked around.
Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw students were all there.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood not far away.
Harry's left arm had fully recovered.
He was whispering something to Ron.
"Who do you think will teach us?"
Harry asked.
Ron shrugged.
"I don't know."
He paused.
"It's definitely not Lockhart, anyway."
No sooner had he spoken.
Lockhart walked onto the stage.
He was wearing a magenta robe.
Golden patterns were embroidered on it.
He looked dazzling.
Harry and Ron's faces instantly fell.
Both simultaneously raised their hands to cover their faces, their voices filled with despair.
"Why him?"
Hermione stood nearby, her lips pressed together.
"It would be better if Charlie taught than him."
Charlie raised an eyebrow when he heard that.
Me teach?
Oh, Hermione, you're a genius.
Chapter 114 The Real Duel!
On the stage, Professor Lockhart spread his arms.
His magenta robes shimmered under the lights.
"Students!"
His voice echoed through the Great Hall.
"Welcome to the Duelling Club!"
The students quieted down.
All eyes were on the stage.
"I know you're all worried about the recent events at school."
He paused.
"But fear not, I am here."
"Headmaster Dumbledore has authorized me to start this club to impart my exquisite duelling skills to you."
"So you can protect yourselves."
Sparse applause broke out below the stage.
Most students' expressions were strained.
After more than a month of classes, except for a few fanatics, almost all the teachers and students in the school knew that Professor Lockhart was a fraud.
But Professor Lockhart seemed not to notice.
He continued speaking.
"Of course, I can't teach everyone by myself."
"So, at Professor Snape's strong request, I agreed to let him be my assistant."
He turned around and waved towards the side of the stage.
"Let's welcome Professor Snape!"
Professor Snape emerged from the shadows.
He wore black robes, and his face was terrifyingly grim.
Charlie believed that if they weren't at school, Professor Snape would absolutely chop Professor Lockhart into mincemeat.
Professor Lockhart smiled brightly.
"Don't worry, I'll return Professor Snape to you in one piece."
Professor Snape's mouth twitched.
His eyes were filled with murderous intent.
Professor Lockhart was completely oblivious.
He walked to the center of the stage.
"Now, let's demonstrate the process of a duel."
The two stood facing each other.
Professor Lockhart raised his wand.
"First, you must bow to your opponent."
He bent at the waist and bowed.
His movements were as exaggerated as if he were acting.
Professor Snape reluctantly nodded.
His whole being exuded impatience.
Professor Lockhart straightened up.
"Then, raise your wand."
"On the count of three, we will cast spells simultaneously."
"One."
"Two."
"Three..."
Almost as soon as the first letter of 'three' left his mouth, Professor Snape's wand flashed red.
"Expelliarmus!"
Before Professor Lockhart could even utter a spell, his wand flew from his hand.
He was struck and sent flying, landing heavily off the stage.
The Slytherin students erupted in cheers.
Professor Lockhart struggled to get up.
His hair was dishevelled, and his robes were dusty.
But he still forced a smile.
"See?"
He patted his robes.
"That's the Expelliarmus."
"Professor Snape used it very beautifully."
"Of course, it would have been easy for me to stop it."
"I just deliberately let myself be hit so you could see the effect of the spell."
Professor Snape's face grew darker.
His fingers gripped his wand tightly.
Harry whispered to Ron beside him, "I'll never say anything bad about Professor Lockhart again."
"He's practically a warrior."
Professor Lockhart clapped his hands.
"Alright, now it's your turn."
"Pair up and practice the Expelliarmus."
"Remember, duels must be elegant."
"Always respect your opponent and bow first."
Charlie raised his hand.
"I don't think that's right."
Professor Lockhart's smile instantly froze.
"Mr. White, do you have an opinion?"
"A Basilisk won't bow to us."
"This duelling philosophy is completely wrong."
"It's just grandstanding."
The Great Hall fell silent instantly.
All the students' eyes focused on Charlie.
Professor Lockhart's smile began to falter.
"It seems Mr. White has some new perspectives."
His voice was a little strained.
"But you are still a student, and there's much you don't understand."
Professor Lockhart was actually terribly flustered.
He knew Charlie's strength; in class before, he had never seen such a 'flower scattering' Stupefy.
He simply couldn't control Charlie.
So he turned his head and looked at Professor Snape.
His eyes were filled with a plea for help.
Professor Snape should help him, right?
After all, Professor Snape always hated it when students talked back to a Professor.
Professor Snape stared at Charlie.
"It seems Mr. White believes himself to be more capable than a Professor."
Professor Lockhart breathed a sigh of relief.
Sure enough.
Professor Snape would never let a student talk back to a Professor.
But the next sentence completely stunned him.
"Since you are so arrogant, then let Professor Lockhart teach you a good lesson about respecting a Professor."
He turned his head and stared at Professor Lockhart.
Professor Lockhart's smile completely broke.
"No, no, no."
He quickly waved his hands.
"I think it would be too harsh for me to go against Charlie."
"You should do it."
Professor Snape was expressionless.
"I am an assistant."
"An assistant is clearly not enough to give Mr. White a profound lesson."
He stared at Professor Lockhart.
His eyes were full of mockery.
"Professor Lockhart, please proceed."
Professor Lockhart's mouth twitched.
He looked at Professor Snape, then at Charlie.
The expression on his face was incredibly rich.
Losing to Professor Snape wasn't shameful; after all, Professor Snape was a famous Potions Master, but losing to a student? He couldn't even justify that himself!
The students below had already erupted.
"Charlie is going to duel a Professor?"
"This is going to be good."
Harry and Ron exchanged glances.
Ron whispered, "I bet Charlie wins."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Is that even a bet?"
Charlie walked onto the stage.
He pulled out his wand.
"Come on, Professor."
Professor Lockhart stood rooted to the spot.
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
His mind raced.
What to do.
Think, you idiot, think!
The students below had already started to jeer.
"Go on, Professor!"
"Let us see your power!"
Professor Lockhart gritted his teeth.
He looked up at the sea of students below the stage.
Their eyes were filled with anticipation.
He had no choice but to go.
He cheered himself on internally.
Charlie was just a student.
He could surely exchange a few blows with him.
Then he would just say he didn't want to damage Charlie's confidence and end the duel voluntarily.
Perfect.
Professor Lockhart walked towards Charlie, forcing a smile.
"Mr. White, actually, I think..."
"Expelliarmus!"
Red light exploded.
As the red light flew before his eyes, Professor Lockhart had only one thought: 'Young man, no sportsmanship!'
Professor Lockhart didn't finish his sentence; he was sent flying into the air and once again off the stage.
His wand flew from his hand, arcing through the air, and landed at Professor Snape's feet.
The Great Hall erupted.
"Merlin's beard!"
"He actually dared to do it!"
"The Professor was knocked flying!"
The students' cheers almost tore off the roof.
A Professor being hit by a student—this was not a common sight.
The Slytherin side laughed the loudest.
Draco clapped his hands, his schadenfreude undisguised.
On the stage, Charlie put away his wand.
"The first move in a duel."
He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the audience below.
"Surprise."
"A duel isn't a dance, and a Basilisk isn't a gentleman."
"No one will stand still and wait for you to bow."
"We have only one goal in a duel."
"And that is victory!"
Charlie paused.
"Next, I will show you what a real duel is!"
Chapter 115 Gouge out his eyes and kick his groin
Professor Snape stood to the side, a glimmer of approval in his eyes.
He agreed with Charlie's view that the Duelling Club was for teaching students how to protect themselves.
If it weren't for this purpose, he wouldn't have agreed to be Lockhart's assistant.
"If you encounter a Wizard stronger than yourself, many Spells won't be effective, because the opponent often knows those same Spells," Charlie continued.
"Therefore, as the weaker party, duelling skills are the most important. Mastering techniques can often make Spells achieve unexpected effects."
He turned to Snape.
"Professor, please assist me in demonstrating close-range duelling techniques."
Professor Snape was very confused; how did he not know there were any close-range duelling techniques?
However, he still silently walked in front of Charlie, raising his wand, ready for battle.
His black robe cast a shadow in the light, and his whole person exuded an oppressive aura.
Charlie approached unhurriedly.
"Professor, get ready."
"Three."
"Two."
But what came next was not the expected "one."
Charlie's left hand suddenly pulled out a handful of ash from his pocket and threw it directly at Professor Snape's face.
At the same time, his right hand raised his wand, concealed by the dust.
"Tongue-Tying Curse!"
Professor Snape was caught off guard, sand got into his eyes, and he instinctively closed them.
Due to the momentary loss of vision, the Spell Charlie cast struck Professor Snape without suspense, rendering him speechless.
Charlie pressed his advantage, waving his wand.
A rope appeared, binding Professor Snape tightly.
To prevent Professor Snape from casting silently and without a wand, Charlie used the rope to firmly tie Professor Snape's fingers, as silent and wandless casting also requires certain hand gestures.
[Your Majesty ambushed your teacher, shamefully tying him to the ground, tyrant points +10]
The Great Hall was silent.
Everyone's eyes were wide, unable to believe what had just happened.
"Charlie cheated!" a Slytherin student shouted.
"He ambushed Professor!"
They couldn't accept their Dean being ambushed and defeated.
"What kind of technique is that? Rubbish! I'd rather die than learn something like this."
Charlie glanced at them.
"Outside of school, you face enemies, and enemies won't be soft-hearted; they will only use more despicable methods against you."
"These methods I used can be done by first-year students. But when used by surprise, they can even take down adult Wizards."
After hearing this, the Slytherin students' protests quieted down.
They also felt there was some truth to it.
"Remember, leniency towards enemies is cruelty to oneself," Charlie said, striking while the iron was hot.
"The moment the Spell hits, you go up and poke his eyes, kick him in the groin, making him completely lose the ability to resist."
The students below felt a chill, and even some girls began to feel a phantom ache in a non-existent part.
Draco's eyes, however, lit up, as if a new world had opened to him.
If he used this move on Harry...
Draco turned to look at Harry, only to find Harry looking back at him.
Their gazes met in the air, sparking intense flames.
Charlie announced from the stage.
"Alright, now in pairs, start training. Remember, you must throw it at the face to block the opponent's vision."
"When throwing, simultaneously cast a Spell. Everyone should know the Tongue-Tying Curse; I don't need to teach it, do I?"
Charlie waved his wand, and a large pile of sand appeared at the edge of the stage.
"Those who are ready, come and grab a handful of sand."
The students reluctantly found partners, but everyone was reserved. Throwing sand in a classmate's face... is that something a normal person would do?
But two people were exceptions.
Draco and Harry stared at each other, getting closer and closer.
Until they were face to face, their eyes locked on each other.
Draco gave a sinister smile.
"Potter... Ah!"
Harry didn't bother listening to him babble, flinging a handful of sand at Draco's face.
Unfortunately, due to the exaggerated movement, the motion for casting the Spell with his right hand was distorted, and the Tongue-Tying Curse didn't connect.
He still needed practice.
"My eyes!"
"You wait!"
Draco grew anxious, grabbed a handful of sand, and threw it back.
Among the onlookers, some students also began to secretly make their moves.
This was like stirring up a hornet's nest; no one wanted to get a face full of sand.
So, to avoid being hit with sand, they could only throw it at the opponent's face first.
For a time, the entire Great Hall was filled with dust, and the students were having a blast fighting.
Most people, due to distorted movements, did not cast subsequent Spells, so they could only frantically throw sand.
[Your Majesty corrupted classmates, led astray the atmosphere, tyrant points +10+10+10...]
Charlie looked at the chaos in the Great Hall, and the string of tyrant points, nodding contentedly.
He raised his hand to cast a protective charm on himself, to prevent dust from getting into his eyes.
Just then, a grunting sound came from his feet.
Charlie looked down.
Professor Snape lay on the ground, tightly bound by ropes, his eyes wide open, as if about to spit fire.
Charlie swallowed.
For this demonstration of duelling techniques, Professor shouldn't hold a grudge, right?
He squatted down and picked up Professor Snape's wand from beside him.
Then he loosened the ropes, and Professor Snape regained his freedom.
The Tongue-Tying Curse was also lifted.
Charlie quickly reached out and pulled Professor Snape up from the ground.
Professor Snape stood up, his face so gloomy it looked like it could drip water.
Before Professor Snape could speak, Charlie immediately began to praise him.
"Professor, you worked hard to cooperate with my demonstration to present the best effect for everyone. You worked hard, truly."
"Professor is magnanimous and surely won't hold it against me, right?"
No matter his reaction, first shower him with praise, praise him into a daze.
Professor Snape snorted coldly.
He extended his right hand in front of Charlie.
Charlie handed him his wand.
Professor Snape took the wand, gripping his fingers tightly.
He turned around, facing the Great Hall.
His wand swung fiercely, and a gust of wind rose out of nowhere, sweeping through the entire Great Hall.
The dust was dispersed, and the students were blown off balance. The previously heated crowd instantly stopped.
Everyone looked up at the stage, only Draco and Harry were still entangled.
The two had completely given up their wands and resorted to fists.
Harry was straddling Draco, punching downwards. Draco held his head, using his knees to push Harry's back. The two were fighting fiercely.
Professor Snape's gaze swept over.
"Stop it, are you Wizards or foolish goblins?"
Harry and Draco stopped their actions simultaneously.
Both were breathing heavily, their faces bruised and swollen.
Professor Snape walked off the stage and stood in front of them.
"Gryffindor, minus 10 points."
Hermione despaired; so many people were fighting, why was only Gryffindor losing points!
Draco cast a triumphant glance at Harry; it was also a brawl, Harry got points deducted, but he wouldn't.
Harry was very indignant but wisely did not contradict Professor Snape.
Professor Snape turned his head, staring at Charlie.
"Hufflepuff, minus 50 points."
The Hufflepuff students below wailed.
Professor Snape continued.
"Furthermore, Charlie, two months of detention."
Charlie was not surprised; what was due would always come.
Detention was like going home; everyone inside was a talent, he loved detention.
Professor Snape turned and left the Great Hall.
His black robe billowed behind him, stirring up a breeze.
The Great Hall became quiet again.
The students looked at each other, not knowing what to say.
Charlie clapped his hands.
"Alright, today's Duelling Club is over."
"Everyone go back and practice hard."
"Next club, I'll teach the next move."
Hermione's eyes widened, there's a next time?
Chapter 116 Lockhart, in Danger!
Because too many people at Hogwarts wanted to buy flying swords, the Hogsmeade Flying Witchstore rapidly launched a series of flying sword props.
Many wealthy students and parents at Hogwarts bought a flying sword.
For a time, many students were playing with flying swords on the Quidditch Pitch after class.
However, while the flying swords were fast and had a novel design, their problems were also obvious.
As a newly launched product, they were not as mature as brooms.
Brooms had fixed Spells on them, making it feel like sitting in a chair, very stable.
But flying swords were different; students could only stand on the blade, and a slight sharp turn could easily cause them to slip off.
Many students fell from their flying swords and broke their arms.
Madam Hooch, with a headache, posted a notice: "Flying with swords is forbidden! All students, please comply consciously!"
The students erupted.
"What? No flying?"
"I just bought a flying sword!"
Complaints rose and fell.
Charlie stood on the periphery of the crowd.
He looked at the notice, lost in thought.
It seems necessary to have the Flying Witch store add a fixed Spell to the flying swords... Principal's office.
Sunlight streamed in from the high windows, falling on the large oak table.
On the tabletop lay a black-covered diary.
Dumbledore sat in his chair, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles fixed on the diary.
His fingers tapped lightly on the table, rhythmically and slowly.
The Basilisk was still at Hogwarts; although it was too scared to approach the Castle by the Roosters all over it, it was still alive.
As long as it was still there, the danger was not resolved.
Dumbledore sighed; he needed to find the Basilisk's location and thoroughly resolve this hidden danger so the students could be safe.
But Tom would certainly not cooperate.
Dumbledore's gaze fell on the diary, his eyes deepening.
He had made a decision.
Just then, a knock came from outside the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in," Dumbledore said.
The door was pushed open.
Lockhart walked in.
He was wearing a light blue robe, his hair impeccably combed.
But the expression on his face was a bit unnatural.
His smile was a little stiff, and anxiety lurked in his eyes.
Ever since the last incident at the Duelling Club, Professor Lockhart's authority had been swept away.
Although his authority had long been swept away, he only now became aware of it.
He was worried Dumbledore would fire him.
If he were fired, what would his fans think?
Would his reputation be ruined?
The more Lockhart thought about it, the more flustered he became.
He walked to the desk, forcing a smile.
"Principal, did you need me for something?"
His voice trembled slightly.
Dumbledore looked up and smiled at him.
"Professor Lockhart, please sit."
He gestured to the chair opposite.
Lockhart sat down, his hands tightly clasped together.
His palms were slick with sweat.
Dumbledore pushed up his spectacles.
"I've recently been studying this diary that summoned the Basilisk."
He pointed to the diary on the table.
Lockhart's gaze fell on the diary.
It looked unremarkable.
"I had hoped to find the Basilisk through the diary, but I've encountered some difficulties," Dumbledorecontinued.
"There are some parts of this diary that I cannot understand."
Lockhart blinked.
Dumbledore was asking him for help?
This was truly rare.
"Professor Lockhart's adventures are so rich," Dumbledore said.
"I imagine you've seen many strange magical items."
"Do you have any ideas?"
Lockhart's eyes instantly lit up.
This was an opportunity!
If he could help, he might be able to salvage some of his reputation.
He immediately sat up straight.
"Oh, of course, of course!"
His voice grew louder.
"I've seen too many things like this."
He began to ramble, boasting that he had once dealt with 56 such diaries.
Dumbledore listened quietly, a benevolent smile on his face.
Lockhart grew more excited as he spoke, patting his chest.
"So, Principal, just hand the diary over to me."
"I guarantee I can find out its secrets."
Dumbledore nodded.
"That would be wonderful."
He picked up the diary and handed it to Lockhart.
"I'm counting on you, Professor Lockhart."
Lockhart took the diary, his smile even brighter.
"Don't worry, Principal."
"I definitely won't let you down."
He stood up, tucking the diary under his armpit.
"I'll go back and study it now."
"In three days at most, I'll have an answer for you."
Dumbledore smiled as he watched him leave.
The office door closed behind Lockhart.
Dumbledore sat in his chair, his fingers intertwined, resting under his chin.
His blue eyes were fixed on the door panel.
"What do you think he will do?"
He spoke, his voice very soft.
The air opposite the desk twisted slightly.
A fiery red Phoenix materialized from the void, landing on a shelf. Its feathers gleamed with a dark golden light in the sun.
Fawkes tilted its head and blinked.
Dumbledore smiled.
"I think so too."
He stood up and walked to the window.
The grounds of Hogwarts spread out below, the lake reflecting the sky, the edge of the Forbidden Forest a dark mass.
His fingers rested on the window frame.
"Tom won't communicate with me," Dumbledore said.
"When the diary was in my hands, he wouldn't reveal a single word."
"But Lockhart is different."
Dumbledore walked back to the desk and pulled open a drawer, inside which was a stack of parchment.
The top sheet was filled with Lockhart's personal information, recording how Lockhart stole others' lives to write his books.
"He is foolish enough and arrogant enough that Tom will look down on him."
"He will think he is easy to control, and that this is his only chance."
"The Basilisk is still in the school, and Tom needs it to complete his plan, but he is currently trapped in the diary and cannot act directly."
"Lockhart is his only tool."
Fawkes let out a low cry.
Dumbledore nodded.
"I will keep an eye on Lockhart, constantly noting the diary's location."
"As soon as Tom begins to act, he will reveal a weakness."
"Then we will be able to find the Basilisk's location."
The office fell silent, the sound of the wind coming from outside the window.
Dumbledore picked up a lemon drop from the table, peeled its wrapper, and put it in his mouth.
The sourness burst on his tongue, and he narrowed his eyes.
"This is an overt scheme, Tom."
"You will take the bait."
Chapter 117 Lockhart: Hagrid is the rightful heir?
Lockhart returned to his office.
He cautiously locked the door and drew the curtains, plunging the entire room into darkness, with only a candle flickering on the table.
Lockhart sat in his chair and laid the diary open on the desk.
He picked up a quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and held the tip poised over the paper, suspended in mid-air.
Lockhart hesitated for a few seconds, then wrote a line.
"I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Arts Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."
Tom in the diary: What an idiot! Where is Dumbledore? Did he abandon me?
But Tom quickly realized that no matter what caused the diary to fall into this imbecile's hands, this was his chance.
As long as he could gain Lockhart's trust and manipulate Lockhart into finding the Basilisk, his plan to cleanse the school could still continue!
Tom quickly absorbed the ink into the paper, and it soon disappeared.
Lockhart blinked, finding it rather interesting.
A few seconds later, new handwriting appeared in the diary.
"Hello, Mr. Lockhart, my name is Tom Riddle."
Lockhart narrowed his eyes.
"You've fallen into my hands, you'd better confess honestly, where is the Basilisk?"
The handwriting disappeared again, and a new reply appeared in the diary.
"I think Mr. Lockhart has a deep misunderstanding of me. I am not the one who released the Basilisk; someone else released it."
Lockhart let out a chuckle.
"You think I'll believe that? Such lies can only fool children."
"The Principal handed you over to me to find out the truth; don't try to deceive me."
The diary was silent for a few seconds. Tom knew that an adult Wizard was not as easy to fool as a student, so a line of text appeared.
"Fifty years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was also opened."
"Someone died then, but the true heir was not punished; he still lives at Hogwarts today."
Lockhart was stunned.
Fifty years ago? Wasn't that half a century ago? He hadn't even been born then, so naturally, he didn't know what had happened.
Lockhart's fingers trembled as he wrote.
"You think I'm stupid, why should I believe you?"
The diary replied.
"I can take you to see that memory, and you will understand everything."
Lockhart suddenly became alert. Although he was unfamiliar with many Spells, as a master of the Memory Charm, he was very sensitive to memories.
Whether entering someone else's memory or letting someone enter his, it was a dangerous thing.
But he also wanted to know the truth.
If he could really solve the Basilisk problem, Dumbledore would surely publicize it, and his reputation could be restored.
Moreover, when it came to memories, Lockhart was confident that nothing would go wrong for him.
"Okay, I'll go."
The writing in the diary suddenly glowed, illuminating the entire room.
Before Lockhart could react, the scene before him twisted, and he felt himself being pulled in by a force.
The surrounding walls, furniture, and candles all disappeared, replaced by darkness. Then the light returned.
Lockhart stood in a corridor, torches hanging on the walls. The stone walls were damp, and the air had a musty smell.
This was Hogwarts, but it was also somehow different.
Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.
Lockhart turned his head.
A young man walked over, with black hair, black eyes, wearing a Hogwarts uniform, his face expressionless, but his gaze sharp.
Lockhart stared at him. This must be Tom Riddle, in his younger days.
The young man in the memory, of course, couldn't see him and walked straight towards a room on the other side of the corridor.
Lockhart followed him.
The young man pushed open the door. Inside was a small storeroom, with some boxes piled in the corner.
A large boy was squatting on the ground, stuffing something into a box.
Lockhart recognized the face and froze.
It was Hagrid, a young Hagrid, his enormous size very distinctive.
Hagrid heard the footsteps, spun around abruptly, and seeing young Tom, his face instantly turned pale.
"Tom, what are you doing here?"
Tom didn't speak. He raised his wand and pointed it at Hagrid.
"Hand over that monster." Hagrid took a step back.
"Aragog didn't kill anyone!"
His voice was urgent.
"Really, it wouldn't hurt anyone!"
Tom's expression remained unchanged.
"This is for the sake of all the students, Hagrid. I won't say it a second time."
Hagrid gritted his teeth.
"No, it's my friend."
"You can't hurt it."
Tom's wand flicked sharply.
"Reducto!"
Red light exploded.
The box was hit and shattered completely.
Wood splinters flew, and a sharp hissing sound came from inside.
A giant spider crawled out of the debris, its eight legs covered with needle-like bristles, its eyes reflecting an eerie light under the firelight.
Hagrid shouted.
"Aragog! Run!"
The spider turned and rushed towards the window, smashing the glass and disappearing into the night.
Hagrid knelt on the ground, hands propped on the floor, his shoulders trembling.
Tom put away his wand.
"You'd better pray no one else dies."
The scene twisted.
Lockhart felt himself being pulled out again, darkness engulfing his vision.
Then he was back in his office, the candle still flickering on the table, the diary open before him. Not much time had passed.
Lockhart slumped in his chair, panting, his back drenched in cold sweat, his mind a mess.
Hagrid was the heir? The monster in the Chamber of Secrets wasn't a Basilisk, but a spider?
Could a spider petrify people? Lockhart wasn't sure; this knowledge was clearly beyond his scope as a poor student.
"Why wasn't Hagrid punished?" Lockhart wrote, bewildered.
Writing appeared in the diary.
"You'll have to ask the current Principal, Dumbledore. He covered for Hagrid then."
Lockhart's breathing hitched. Dumbledore covered for Hagrid? How was that possible?
But the diary continued to write.
"The Chamber of Secrets was closed, and the school didn't want the matter to get out, so they claimed the girl died in an accident."
"Everyone thought it was over, but the truth was covered up, and Hagrid's monster was still alive. And now, it's back."
"Although this matter is secret, there must be case files preserved. You can write to the Ministry of Magic to verify it."
Lockhart's head buzzed.
If this was true, if Dumbledore really covered for Hagrid, then he held a huge secret.
He could write about it in a book, he could expose the matter.
Then everyone would know that the great Dumbledore could also make mistakes, and also cover for criminals.
And he, Lockhart, would be the hero who defied authority and exposed the truth!
Lockhart's eyes grew brighter and brighter; this was an absolute godsend.
Thinking of this, Lockhart quickly wrote a letter to Minister for Magic Fudge, inquiring about the situation.
Given his status and fame, he naturally had Fudge's contact information.
Seeing that Lockhart had taken the bait, Tom sneered inwardly.
These memories were, of course, real, but he had cut out the preceding and succeeding causes, and combined with Hagrid's expulsion at the time, it was indeed easy to make people believe that Hagridwas the heir.
As long as attention was drawn to Hagrid, and he could then manipulate Lockhart, he would be able to control the Basilisk again and cleanse the school of its impure bloodlines.
Chapter 118 Fudge Wants to Arrest People
The spirit of Christmas gradually spread throughout Hogwarts.
Snowflakes floated from the Great Hall's ceiling, pine branches and mistletoe hung all over the walls, and the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and roasted turkey.
Charlie stood in his dormitory, packing his luggage.
He stuffed a few changes of clothes into his backpack and checked his wand and money pouch again.
He was going back to the Orphanage for the holidays, so he needed to prepare some gifts for the little rascals and Grandma White.
Just as he was thinking, there was a tapping sound outside the window.
Charlie turned his head, and an Owl was pressed against the glass, with frost clinging to its head.
He opened the window, and the Owl hopped in, dropping a letter.
Charlie, as usual, took out Storm's dried meat and offered it to the Owl.
Storm's hawk eyes instantly sharpened, staring at it.
"Kid, if you dare take it, I'll kill you!"
Seeing that the messenger Owl remained unfazed by the dried meat, a hint of satisfaction flashed in Storm's eyes.
"Very sensible."
However, the moment Storm relaxed, the Owl immediately snatched the dried meat and fled.
Storm was so angry that his head feathers stood on end, but the other party ran too fast, and Storm couldn't catch up now even if he chased.
He could only groom his feathers resentfully.
"That bird egg, daring to snatch my dried meat, tonight I'll go find your sweetheart and make sure I don't mess her up."
Charlie ignored the two birds' squabble and opened the letter.
This was a letter from Hagrid. As the Christmas holidays approached, if Charlie returned to the Orphanage, Hagrid wouldn't see Norbert for a long time.
So Hagrid hoped Charlie would take Norbert to him before he left.
Charlie naturally had no objections, so he took his box and left the Castle.
Upon meeting Hagrid, he opened the box inside the Hut.
Both of them jumped in.
Hagrid landed and froze completely.
Before him were vast expanses of Whomping Willows, with thick trunks and branches that clawed and swayed in the wind.
Although not as grand as the one at the school, they were already quite substantial, each tree two or three meters tall.
Sunlight filtered through the canopies, and the ground was covered with fallen leaves.
"Merlin's beard," Hagrid mumbled.
"How is this possible?"
He took a few steps forward.
The Whomping Willows sensed the intruder and instantly lashed out.
The willow branches whipped over with astonishing speed.
Hagrid jumped in fright, instinctively retreating.
Charlie raised his hand, and magic surged from his fingertips, forming a thin membrane over Hagrid.
The moment the Whomping Willows' branches sensed the magic, they stopped mid-air.
They froze for a few seconds, then slowly retracted, hanging down again, swaying their branches, and becoming quiet.
Hagrid's eyes widened.
"How did you do that?" His voice was full of shock.
"These Whomping Willows actually listen to you?"
Charlie shrugged.
"They recognize my magic."
Hagrid opened his mouth but couldn't speak for a long time.
He turned his head, looking at the Whomping Willow forest, his eyes filled with envy.
"You're amazing," Hagrid said.
"I've lived for so many years and have never seen anyone tame a Whomping Willow."
He sighed.
"If only I could do that too."
Not only had he tamed the Whomping Willows, but Norbert was also completely submissive to Charlie.
Charlie led him deeper into the forest.
Norbert had sensed Charlie the moment he entered the box.
With a whoosh, he ran out of the cave.
Zhu Di, who was perched on Norbert's head, instantly felt the world spin.
By the time Norbert stopped outside the Whomping Willow forest, Zhu Di was already dizzy and roaring like a dragon on Norbert's head.
"Ugh..."
Norbert lay on the open ground, wings tucked by his sides, tail wagging back and forth behind him, kicking up a cloud of dust.
His body was already enormous, his scales reflecting a metallic sheen in the sunlight, and with each breath, small flames spewed from his nostrils.
When Hagrid saw Norbert, his eyes immediately reddened.
"My little Norbert," his voice was a little choked.
"You've grown so big."
Norbert rubbed his head against Hagrid.
Hagrid spread his arms, wanting to hug Norbert's body.
But he could only press against him, his hands unable to close around him.
"I can't hold you like I used to when you were little," Hagrid sniffled.
"You're too big; my arms can't even reach your back."
Charlie stood aside, not disturbing them.
Hagrid sat by Norbert for a long time.
He chattered on, talking about what had happened to him recently, about the students at school, and about the animals in the Forbidden Forest.
Norbert lay at his feet, his tail sweeping the ground rhythmically, eyes half-closed, very quiet.
Time passed quickly, and the sky gradually darkened.
Hagrid stood up and patted Norbert's head.
"I should go back," he said.
"You stay here and be good, don't be mischievous."
Norbert snorted, exhaling two plumes of white smoke.
The two of them emerged from the box.
Hagrid's Hut was warm, the fire in the fireplace burning brightly.
Just as Charlie was about to say goodbye, there was a sudden knock at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Hagrid and Charlie exchanged glances.
Hagrid walked over and opened the door.
Two people stood outside.
One was Dumbledore, wearing purple robes, his half-moon spectacles gleaming in the firelight.
The other was a short, stout man with gray hair, wearing a top hat, and a formal smile on his face.
Hagrid's expression changed instantly.
"Minister," his voice trembled slightly.
"What brings you here?"
The stout man entered the house, his gaze sweeping over Hagrid, then over Charlie, his eyes lighting up.
He walked up to Charlie and enthusiastically took Charlie's hand.
"Oh, Mr. White, I've heard your name for a long time."
"Allow me to introduce myself, I am the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
Charlie greeted him, subtly withdrawing his hand.
"Why do all these leaders like to pull and tug? Where did they learn such a bad habit? There's no Uncle Liu Huang in Britain either."
After Fudge finished talking with Charlie, he turned back to Hagrid.
"This is terrible, Hagrid," he sighed.
"I hear the Chamber of Secrets at the school has been opened again."
Hagrid took half a step back.
"It wasn't me," he said hastily.
"I didn't open the Chamber of Secrets, really, I swear!"
Fudge waved his hand.
"I know you're saying that now."
"But the problem is, you have a record."
Hagrid became even more flustered, he turned his head and looked at Professor Dumbledore.
"Principal," Hagrid's voice trembled.
"Please believe me, I really didn't open the Chamber of Secrets."
Professor Dumbledore walked into the house, he stood beside Hagrid, his gaze fixed on Fudge.
"I completely trust Hagrid, Cornelius, he wouldn't do such a thing."
Fudge shrugged.
"Your trust is certainly important, Principal," his tone was lukewarm.
"But the problem is, the Ministry of Magic doesn't think so."
He pulled a scroll of parchment from his pocket and unrolled it.
"This is the Ministry of Magic's resolution," Fudge said.
"In view of the Chamber of Secrets being opened again, and Hagrid having previously opened the Chamber of Secrets, the Ministry of Magic believes preventive measures must be taken."
He paused.
"So I must take Hagrid and temporarily detain him in Azkaban until the truth comes out."
Hagrid's face turned pale.
"Azkaban?" His voice was filled with fear.
"No, not there."
"Professor Dumbledore, I don't want to go to Azkaban!" Hagrid's eyes were filled with terror.
"That place will kill you."
Professor Dumbledore's expression darkened.
He turned his head and stared at Fudge.
"Hagrid has not committed a mistake," Professor Dumbledore's voice was cold.
"The Chamber of Secrets being opened is merely a rumor, you cannot arrest him for that reason."
Chapter 119 Dumbledore, the Self-Disciplined White Demon King
Minister Fudge's smile was a little stiff.
"Professor, why are you doing this?"
Minister Fudge's tone carried a hint of persuasion.
"The Ministry of Magic just wants to temporarily take Hagrid to clarify the facts, not to convict him."
"Once he's proven innocent, he'll naturally be released."
Hagrid's breathing was rapid, and his hands were tightly clenched into fists.
Minister Fudge's words sounded good, but Hagrid had been taken to Azkaban in the same way before, and the days there were a nightmare he would never forget.
If Dumbledore hadn't saved him, he might have stayed in Azkaban for the rest of his life.
Dumbledore, however, was very calm; he stood beside Hagrid, staring at Minister Fudge.
"If the Ministry of Magic truly believes in justice, it should not arrest people without evidence."
Minister Fudge opened his mouth, about to say something.
Footsteps came from outside the door.
Lucius Malfoy walked in.
He was wearing black robes embroidered with silver patterns and leaned on a snake-headed cane.
Seeing the dilapidated state of the Hut, he showed a look of disdain.
Hagrid's face instantly turned crimson.
"What are you doing here? Get out, get out of my house."
His voice made the fire in the fireplace jump.
"You're not welcome here."
Lucius's expression remained unchanged; he glanced at Hagrid as if looking at a noisy insect.
Dumbledore spoke.
"Lucius, is there something you need?"
Lucius didn't answer; he scanned the people in the room, and upon seeing Charlie, Lucius nodded in acknowledgment.
"Mr. White, what a coincidence."
Charlie returned a nod, saying nothing.
Lucius withdrew his gaze and looked at Dumbledore.
"I am a member of the school board, so I naturally have the right to inquire about school matters."
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again, and the safety of the students is threatened; the board is very concerned."
"Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago, which is a fact. Although you vouched for him at the time, and the Ministry of Magic didn't pursue it, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open again, Hagrid is largely to blame."
"If Hagrid isn't taken away, and something else goes wrong, you, as Principal, should also resign in disgrace."
Lucius's tone was calm, but his words were sharp.
When he spoke of dismissing the Principal, his eyes could not hide his excitement.
Hearing this, Hagrid was furious.
There was also anger hidden in Dumbledore's eyes, but his expression remained very calm.
"My guarantee for Hagrid is still valid."
Dumbledore said.
"If Hagrid truly is the heir of the Chamber of Secrets and has harmed students, I will resign as Principaland take full responsibility."
The room was silent for a few seconds.
Minister Fudge's eyes widened, and the parchment in his hand almost fell to the floor.
Lucius's eyebrows twitched, and surprise flashed across his face.
Hagrid suddenly turned his head to look at Dumbledore.
"Principal, you don't have to..."
Charlie looked at Dumbledore, also very surprised.
With Dumbledore's power, the number one person in the magic world, Minister Fudge and Malfoy were nothing.
Shouldn't he be above such trivialities? Why stick to the rules?
Charlie stared into Dumbledore's eyes.
There was anger in those blue eyes, but more so, restraint.
Charlie suddenly understood.
Precisely because Dumbledore was too strong, he needed to restrict himself with rules.
Once he got used to breaking rules and solving everything with power, he would become another Lord Voldemort—no, an existence more terrifying than Lord Voldemort.
No one could restrain him.
Charlie felt a little touched; the old man's awareness was truly noble.
Of course, if it were Charlie, he wouldn't be willing; he still thought breaking the rules was more enjoyable.
The atmosphere in the room solidified.
Minister Fudge's smile gradually disappeared, Lucius's brow furrowed, and he stared at Dumbledore, a flicker of unwillingness in his eyes.
Since Dumbledore had said so, they couldn't pursue it further, but letting him go just like that felt unsatisfying.
The situation reached a stalemate.
No one would back down, and no one had a solution.
Charlie took two steps forward.
"Minister Fudge, Mr. Malfoy."
Minister Fudge turned his head to look at Charlie, his expression softening a little.
"Mr. White, please speak."
Charlie shrugged.
"Currently, no one in the school has been harmed, and the Principal has made many preparations for the Chamber of Secrets situation; it is still under control."
"Wronging an innocent person is not something the Ministry of Magic would want to see, is it?"
Minister Fudge opened his mouth, a hint of hesitation in his heart.
Although Charlie was only a student.
His status as the youngest Potions Master, coupled with the Rita Skeeter incident some time ago, and the support of many pure-blood families, showed Charlie's remarkable influence.
This was enough to make Minister Fudge take him seriously.
And Lucius, of course, was already Charlie's business partner.
Lucius could oppose Dumbledore because the two were already political rivals.
But Charlie was different; he was an outsider, not clearly aligned with either side.
It was best not to offend him if possible.
Lucius took a deep breath, and his expression softened.
"Mr. White is right; the Ministry of Magic truly should not wrong innocent people."
Minister Fudge glanced at Lucius and also took the hint.
"Yes, yes."
"Since no students at the school have been harmed, we won't arrest Hagrid for now."
He paused, his tone becoming serious.
"However, Principal, if anyone else at the school is harmed, Hagrid must be taken away; this is the Ministry of Magic's bottom line."
Dumbledore nodded.
"I accept this condition."
Hagrid slumped into the chair, letting out a sigh of relief; his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his hands were still trembling.
Minister Fudge put away the parchment and patted his robes.
"Then we'll be leaving now."
He turned and walked towards the door.
Lucius didn't move; he stood in place, staring at Dumbledore.
"Principal, I hope you will keep your promise."
Dumbledore looked at him calmly.
"The school board is welcome to supervise at any time."
Lucius snorted and turned to leave.
As he reached the door, he looked back, a flicker of unwillingness in his eyes.
As a school board member, he desperately wanted to oust Dumbledore.
As long as Dumbledore was gone, he could support a new Principal, and then the House of Malfoy's influence would rise to another level.
Hagrid got up from the chair and walked over to Charlie.
His hands were still trembling, but his eyes were full of gratitude.
"Thank you, Charlie."
Hagrid's voice was hoarse.
"If it weren't for your help, I'd be on my way to Azkaban right now."
Charlie waved his hand.
"It's nothing; you were innocent to begin with."
He looked up at Hagrid.
"But I'm also curious, why did they suspect you 50 years ago?"
Chapter 120 Charlie goes to Lockhart's office for solitary confinement
Hagrid's mouth opened and a pained expression crossed his face.
Dumbledore walked over, his voice very soft.
"That was because of Tom Riddle's framing."
Charlie turned his head, looking at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore pushed up his glasses, his gaze holding a hint of remembrance.
"Fifty years ago, the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets was opened, and a girl died in the restroom."
"Tom Riddle was a student at the time; he found the true Chamber of Secrets and also found the Basilisk."
"But he needed a scapegoat."
Dumbledore looked at Hagrid.
"Hagrid had just been raising an Acromantula at that time."
When speaking of the Acromantula, Dumbledore's gaze met Charlie's, with a profound meaning in his eyes.
Charlie's expression remained unchanged.
Why are you looking at me? I don't raise spiders.
"Tom then pinned the blame on Hagrid, saying that Hagrid's spider had killed the person."
Dumbledore withdrew his gaze and continued.
"The Principal at the time, Dippet, pushed Hagrid out to quell public opinion."
"Hagrid was expelled, his wand was broken, and he was even imprisoned in Azkaban."
Hagrid hung his head, his shoulders slumped.
Being misunderstood for so long was not an easy thing for the big man... The Christmas holiday passed quickly.
Charlie returned to the Orphanage once, bringing gifts for Grandma White and the little rascals.
Grandma White was very happy to receive the gifts and held Charlie's hand, talking for a long time.
At the end of the holiday, Charlie returned to Hogwarts.
On the first day of the new term, students chatted animatedly in the Great Hall.
"When do you think the next Duelling Club will open?"
"I can't wait; I want to learn the new moves Charlie taught."
"When I went home, I showed my dad what I learned last term, and he couldn't even react; I just threw a handful of ash."
It was a grand display of filial piety.
"No wonder you kept clutching your bottom; you got a beating, didn't you?"
Everyone was looking forward to the new Duelling Club, wondering what Charlie would teach.
But to everyone's disappointment, there was no news of the Duelling Club for the next few weeks.
In the days since school started, Lockhart had been completely deflated.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, Professor Lockhart would misread his own book, as if he hadn't slept well the night before.
Sometimes he would hastily end the class, letting the students study on their own.
However, no one really cared about Professor Lockhart's state; they wouldn't learn anything in his class anyway.
That evening, Harry went to Professor Lockhart's office for detention as usual.
He knocked on the door, and it opened; Professor Lockhart was sitting behind his desk, which was piled high with parchment.
"Oh, Harry." Professor Lockhart looked up.
"Come in."
Harry walked in, looking at the parchment.
It was covered in crooked writing, with many places crossed out.
"Professor, what are you writing?" Harry asked.
Professor Lockhart paused. "Oh, nothing."
He stuffed the parchment into a drawer.
"Just dealing with some work matters."
Harry sat down and picked up a quill.
"Professor, when will the Duelling Club open again?"
If he didn't really want to know, Harry wouldn't have wanted to talk much with Professor Lockhart. Being with Professor Lockhart, he would always ramble about his past glories, and Harry was almost sick of hearing it.
But Harry was looking forward to the next Duelling Club even more, so he could thoroughly crush Malfoy again.
So, for once, he took the initiative to speak to Professor Lockhart.
"Duelling Club?" Professor Lockhart revealed a knowing smile.
"Oh, I've been too busy recently and haven't had time to host it. What's wrong? Is everyone looking forward to my Duelling Club?"
Professor Lockhart's smile grew brighter.
"Are you all eager to learn my powerful dueling techniques?"
Harry felt a little regretful and was about to speak when Professor Lockhart continued.
"Speaking of which, I once encountered a Dark Wizard in Egypt whose dueling skills were incredibly powerful, but I..."
Harry quickly interrupted him.
"Professor, let's start replying to letters."
Professor Lockhart closed his mouth, his smile a little stiff.
"Oh, right, replying to letters."
Harry picked up a quill and began to reply to Professor Lockhart's fan mail.
The desk was piled high with letters, all sent by fans.
Harry replied to them one by one, but the remaining letters didn't seem to diminish at all.
He looked up and glanced out the window.
It was completely dark now.
"Professor, there are too many of these letters," Harry said.
"I can't possibly reply to them all by myself."
Professor Lockhart was dozing off; when Harry woke him, his eyes were blank.
After a moment, he came to his senses and rubbed his eyes.
"There are quite a few indeed."
He stood up and stretched.
"Tomorrow I'll go find Professor McGonagall and ask her to send another student for detention."
The next day, Professor Lockhart knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door.
Professor McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, quill in hand, grading assignments.
"Professor Lockhart."
She looked up, her tone somewhat impatient; after the torment of last term, she was quite fed up with Professor Lockhart.
"Is there something you need?"
Professor Lockhart walked in, a smile on his face.
"Professor McGonagall, I would like to ask for your help."
Professor McGonagall put down her quill.
"Speak."
"Could you send another student for detention to help? You know, I have so much to do, and Harry can't handle it alone."
Professor McGonagall stared at him, suspicion in her eyes.
"Professor Lockhart, detention is not for helping you reply to fan mail."
Professor Lockhart's smile faltered a little.
"I know, I know," he said.
"But this is also part of education, isn't it?"
"Teaching students how to communicate with people is an important skill."
Professor McGonagall sighed.
"Currently, the only student in detention who hasn't been assigned yet is Charlie White."
Professor Lockhart's smile froze.
Charlie.
He was almost getting PTSD from that name.
"Are there no other students?"
Professor McGonagall was not very pleased with his reaction. How dare you have an opinion about Charlie?
"No, there aren't."
Professor Lockhart opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back.
He took a deep breath, forcing a smile.
"Alright, then it will be Charlie."
Professor McGonagall nodded.
"I will have him come to your office tonight."