That day, after finishing his lesson preparations, Lockhart suddenly felt like paying Hagrid a visit—the half-giant who was also an important figure in the story. Since Hagrid loved magical creatures, it would be a good opportunity to get acquainted—and perhaps gather some writing material.
On the way, he ran into the famous trio again. Hermione looked furious, supporting a pale-faced Ron, while Harry looked worried.
"Hey, children. Heading to Hagrid's? What happened? What's wrong with Ron?"
Ron didn't answer. Instead, he gagged—and spat out a slug.
"Oh my—who cursed him?"
"Malfoy," Hermione said, looking aggrieved. "He called me a Mudblood. Ron tried to hex him, but his wand is broken…" Her eyes started to well up with tears.
Well, technically you are Muggle-born, Lockhart thought. Two Muggles producing a wizard—that's the definition.
Of course, he couldn't say that out loud.
"Oh, dear Hermione, discrimination from pure-blood families isn't something easily changed. But remember this—no wizard is born from nothing. Even the ancestors of pure-blood families were once Muggles. In fact, the greatest wizards often come from Muggle-born or half-blood backgrounds—like me… and like the Dark Lord." Lockhart gave a confident smile. "Remember, Miss Granger—if you master all the magic in the world, then pure-blood status is nothing but nonsense. If the wizarding world insists on blood purity, it will eventually fade into history."
Hermione was strong-willed, and Lockhart's words—part truth, part embellishment—quickly steadied her. Her tears disappeared.
"You're right, Professor. Blood status doesn't matter. Could you tell me more about the very first wizard?"
Lockhart felt a headache coming on. What a curious child.
"Your History of Magic professor will cover that," he said, patting her shoulder. "Come, let's head to Hagrid's together."
Hagrid was startled when he saw Ron's condition and hurriedly brought out a bucket to catch the slugs.
"Sorry… I don't think there's much I can do. Looks like he just has to get them all out," Hagrid said helplessly.
"I might have a method," Lockhart said. "No guarantees—but we can try accelerating the curse's release. Better short pain than prolonged suffering."
"If Professor says it'll work, it definitely will!" Hermione declared, her trust practically blind.
"Alright then… let's try. Wild Discharge!"
The spell hit Ron. His eyes widened instantly, and he bent forward, vomiting slugs even more violently than before. The sight made everyone shudder.
After a while, it finally stopped. Ron set the bucket aside and slumped onto a chair, looking utterly drained.
"Seems like it worked. Professor Lockhart truly lives up to his reputation," even Hagrid couldn't help but praise.
"It's nothing. I just read a lot of unusual books and learn… unusual spells. You know, surviving in dangerous environments takes more than what Hogwarts teaches."
Was that modesty? Hard to say.
Hermione's eyes lit up. She rushed over and grabbed Lockhart's arm, acting adorably.
"Professor, you have to lend me those books! The Restricted Section is too tightly controlled."
"Ah… alright. You can come to my quarters and borrow them if you like. Reading more is always good at your age."
"Thank you, Professor! It's a deal!"
With Ron recovered, Hagrid suddenly perked up.
"Come take a look at what I've been growing!"
Behind his hut was a small patch of land, where a dozen enormous pumpkins grew—each as large as a boulder.
"Not bad, eh?" Hagrid said proudly. "They're for the Halloween feast… they'll be even bigger by then."
"What fertilizer are you using?" Harry asked.
Hagrid glanced around to make sure no one else was listening.
"Well… I've been giving them a bit of… help, if you know what I mean."
Lockhart noticed a pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the hut. He knew it wasn't an ordinary umbrella—Hagrid's wand was hidden inside.
Hagrid wasn't officially allowed to use magic. He had been expelled in his third year. The trio didn't know the full reason—every time it came up, Hagrid would cough loudly and change the subject.
"A Growth Charm, right?" Hermione said, half-reproachful, half-impressed. "Well… you've done a great job."
"Ron's sister said the same," Hagrid said, nodding toward Ron. Then he tilted his head at Harry. "Saw her yesterday—she said she was just walking around, but I reckon she was hoping to run into someone…" He winked. "I'd say she fancies you."
"Girls tend to like heroes," Lockhart added. "Perfectly natural—seeking the best partner."
"Oh, stop it," Harry said, embarrassed. Ron snorted with laughter.
It was nearly lunchtime.
"Off you go," Lockhart said. "You should eat—there are still classes this afternoon."
But just as they reached the entrance hall, someone stopped Harry and Ron.
"There you are, Potter, Weasley," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "You've both been assigned detention tonight."
"What will we be doing, Professor?" Ron asked nervously.
"You'll be polishing silver trophies in the Trophy Room under Mr. Filch's supervision. No magic—each one must be polished by hand."
"And you, Potter, will assist Professor Lockhart in answering his fan mail."
"Understood, Professor."
Lockhart felt a bit awkward. There was quite a lot of fan mail.
"Eight o'clock," McGonagall said, nodding to Lockhart before leaving.
"Harry, you help Ron polish trophies. I'll help Professor Lockhart with the letters," Hermione said.
"Your handwriting looks like worms. That would ruin Professor Lockhart's image," she added bluntly.
"You like magical creatures too?" Hagrid asked Lockhart excitedly. "They're beautiful, aren't they? Come—I'll show you my little treasures."
He led Lockhart to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"Look—that's a new friend of mine. A Hippogriff. Beautiful, aren't they? Buckbeak! Come here—I want you to meet someone."
A Hippogriff trotted over enthusiastically—an extraordinary creature with the head and talons of an eagle, the body of a horse, and powerful wings.
"Magnificent… and quite adorable," Lockhart said, stroking Buckbeak's feathers. He took out a piece of meat to feed it—nearly losing a finger in the process.
"They're said to be descended from griffins and mares. Hippogriffs can fly higher and faster than any bird. Fierce, too—but once tamed, they're incredibly loyal mounts. How about it? Care for them with me, Professor Lockhart? This one could be your flying companion someday."
"That sounds fantastic, Hagrid. I'd love to. I'll come by often."
"I've got a plan," Hagrid said eagerly. "What if I cross a Manticore with a Fire Crab? Imagine what might come out of that!"
"Creating new creatures? That's the work of Merlin himself…" Lockhart thought. *This could make a great book—Lockhart and His Magical Creatures.
Though… would Hagrid's giant blood resist a Memory Charm?
"That sounds fascinating, Hagrid. I fully support it! When you succeed, you must let me see it first."
Hagrid beamed, his beard practically fluffing up with joy.
"Of course, Professor Lockhart—you're my friend! You might also like Professor Kettleburn—he's an encyclopedia of magical creatures. The person I admire most." Hagrid's expression dimmed slightly. "Though his health's not so good these days… taking care of these creatures takes a lot out of you."
"That's unfortunate. If he retires, I think you'd make an excellent Professor of Care of Magical Creatures."
"You really think so?" Hagrid's eyes widened. "You probably don't know—I was expelled from Hogwarts. Ah well… best not dwell on it. Being gamekeeper's good enough for me."