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Chapter Thirty-Four: Almost Failed
Dumbledore was summoned by the two furious headmasters, and Lockhart, Bagman, and Scrimgeour were brought along as well. Lockhart calmly explained that he had spent the entire evening discussing the Tournament with Mr Bagman—so naturally he had followed when the argument broke out.
After examining the affected students one by one, Dumbledore already had a faint idea of what had happened.
"The attacker's Memory Charm is so sophisticated even I cannot undo it," he said gravely. "Gilderoy, you are far more familiar with memory magic. Would you take a look?"
Lockhart stepped forward without hesitation.
He bent over the unconscious students, wand in hand, and finally straightened up with a suitably horrified expression.
"Headmaster, they were all attacked at the same moment. The spellwork is extraordinary—far beyond what most wizards could manage. I never imagined such powerful memory magic even existed… but clearly, it does."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to Madame Maxime.
"But, Olympe… you said the attacker was weaker than you. That you drove him off."
Maxime bristled. "Are you suggesting I'm lying? Dumbledore, do not push me."
"No, no," Lockhart interjected quickly, wearing his most diplomatic smile. "I believe the Headmaster means the attacker held back, so as not to escalate the situation. With Professor Dumbledore here at Hogwarts, the culprit may have been wary of causing too much of a disturbance."
Maxime huffed, but didn't reply.
"What do you Ministry gentlemen think?" she demanded instead.
Bagman looked hopeless; this wasn't his field at all.
Scrimgeour, however, stepped forward with the cold precision of a former Head Auror.
He walked among the unconscious students, inspecting them with steady, practised hands.
"Mr Lockhart's conclusions are largely correct," Scrimgeour said at last. "But allow me to add something: exceptional memory magic does not necessarily indicate exceptional duelling strength."
He straightened up.
"According to Miss Delacour's testimony, the intruder was an adult male. It may be misdirection, but I doubt it. According to Madame Maxime, his strength was comparable to hers—strength is extremely difficult to fake, even if someone deliberately holds back. And the dramatic use of Dark Magic at the end was too theatrical. I suspect it was intended to shift suspicion toward the Death Eaters."
Maxime folded her arms, scowling.
Scrimgeour continued, "Headmaster Karkaroff noticed nothing the entire time. That suggests either the attacker is highly skilled at concealment… or he is an insider—someone familiar with Hogwarts' secret passages, able to come and go unseen."
His amber eyes swept over every adult male in the room—including Lockhart.
"In conclusion," Scrimgeour said coldly, "all adult male wizards in this castle—including myself—are suspects. And if we are to give our honoured guests an explanation…"
Lockhart was already sweating.
Scrimgeour went on mercilessly:
"My recommendation is this: everyone capable of using magic must surrender their wand for inspection. A Flashback Charm will reveal whether Obliviate has been cast within the last twenty-four hours. I will hand my wand to Headmaster Dumbledore first, and then conduct the examination myself. No Confundus Charm can deceive me."
Dumbledore took Scrimgeour's wand calmly. His gaze slid to Lockhart.
Well? What will you do now, Gilderoy?
Lockhart nearly lost control of his bladder.
He had spent half the night covering his tracks, revisiting the crime scene, even building an alibi with Bagman—only to find Scrimgeour sweeping straight past him to check wands immediately.
Thank Merlin he had just bought a brand-new, unregistered wand from Ollivander—a perfect replica of the one he'd purchased at age eleven.
It might save his life.
"I agree with Mr Scrimgeour!" Karkaroff snapped. "If we still cannot find the culprit after this, then I'll accept my misfortune!"
"That is the only way," Dumbledore said softly. "Lockhart, wake the professors."
He returned Scrimgeour's wand and, without hurry, handed over another wand for inspection before leaving.
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The Castle Awakens
In the middle of the night, every student in the castle was shaken awake. Still in pyjamas, yawning and complaining, they trudged into the corridor to hand their wands to Scrimgeour one by one.
"What's going on?" Ron grumbled. "Where's Dumbledore? Doesn't he even care?"
"Be quiet, Ron," Hermione whispered. She was half-asleep, hair more chaotic than usual—yet oddly pretty in contrast to the panicked girls fussing over their appearances. "Something serious must have happened."
"Do you think Voldemort's already in the castle?" Harry whispered, eyes wide.
Scrimgeour suddenly frowned at Lockhart.
"Gilderoy… you haven't used a single spell in days?" He turned the old wand over in his hand, suspicious.
Lockhart kept his cool.
"As Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, I've recently been teaching students how to handle being disarmed by a Dark wizard," he said smoothly. "The lesson involves my students attacking me while I defend myself without a wand—hand-to-hand subduing techniques."
This was not entirely a lie, which made it safer.
Scrimgeour snorted. "Well then, let me be blunt: it's all useless. The first line of the Auror Code reads—never let your wand leave your hand. I trust you haven't forgotten?"
"I haven't forgotten," Lockhart replied lightly. "But my students need every advantage they can get."
"Next."
Lockhart exhaled silently.
He was in the clear.
For now.
He had created chaos on a massive scale, nearly exposed himself, and still discovered nothing whatsoever.
How bizarre.
It seemed the problem must lie with Hogwarts' own students.
If not… then it might be the professors themselves.
Or, worst of all—
Lockhart himself had somehow been compromised.
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