Blake felt a little embarrassed.
He had just come out of the Room of Requirement early in the morning, heading toward the Great Hall for breakfast, when he was intercepted by Dumbledore, who had been waiting at the entrance.
Dumbledore smiled at him. "I know you don't have to attend classes, but I was certain you'd come for breakfast. After all, food is indispensable to Hufflepuff students."
Blake muttered, "That's a stereotype..."
"Food is indispensable to everyone," Dumbledore mused, sighing softly. "Come with me."
Blake smelled the rich aroma of breakfast wafting from the Great Hall. He sighed, muttered an "Oh," and followed Dumbledore. However, his eyes lingered longingly on the entrance, glancing back repeatedly as if he were leaving behind a lifelong love.
Seeing this, Dumbledore added, "You'll have breakfast with me."
Blake's eyes lit up immediately. Without hesitation, he followed Dumbledore like a loyal puppy, completely forgetting about the Great Hall.
This time, however, Dumbledore didn't lead him to his office. Instead, they exited the castle, passing by the slightly frozen Black Lake before arriving at a small hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
This was Professor Kettleburn's residence.
As they stepped into the courtyard, the door swung open. Professor Kettleburn greeted them with a wide grin.
Clearly, they had planned this meeting.
Blake knew what was coming.
Since Dumbledore had confirmed Kettleburn had recovered, it was time for him to deliver the inevitable news about Blake's latest curse.
Surprisingly, Blake's mood brightened. This meant he could resume his treasure-hunting ventures!
"Come in, quickly. The fireplace is warm," Kettleburn said cheerfully.
The three of them sat at the dining table. In front of Blake was a plate of puffs, a serving of strawberry cake, and a cup of honey tea. Seeing the delightful spread lifted his spirits even more.
"I told Silvanus how you prepare your breakfast each day," Dumbledore said, "but I still believe your meals are too sweet. Too much sugar in the morning isn't healthy."
Blake stared at him in disbelief. "Professor, are you telling me to cut back on sweets?! Have you betrayed the Sweet Party?"
Dumbledore, unfazed, responded, "Young people should heed advice."
Then, he calmly picked up his share of strawberry cake and began cutting it.
Blake almost choked. "You just told me not to eat too much sugar, but you're having cake yourself?!"
Dumbledore blinked. "I have faith that if I were to fall ill, you would heal me."
The pleasant breakfast passed quickly. Kettleburn brewed a fresh pot of tea, and Dumbledore took a long sip before exhaling deeply.
Blake knew what was coming next.
Dumbledore's tone turned slightly stern. "You seem to have been busier than me, the headmaster, lately."
Blake blinked. "Well... you're not that busy either. Most of the work is done by Professor McGonagall."
Dumbledore, mid-sip, nearly choked.
Although it was true he had delegated much to Professor McGonagall, hearing it put so bluntly was still jarring.
Clearing his throat, Dumbledore quickly redirected the conversation. "Let's not change the subject. Where have you been these past few days without requesting leave? I heard from your roommate that you haven't spent the night in the dormitory for quite some time."
Blake, without hesitation, explained everything.
Dumbledore listened, his expression gradually softening. After all, Blake wasn't up to anything nefarious. He had been helping those Lockhart had wronged, arranging their livelihoods through his own business ventures.
"In that case," Dumbledore said, "I'll inform Professor McGonagall about your leave."
Blake beamed. He had successfully avoided punishment.
However, Dumbledore pressed further. "But you still haven't answered—if you haven't been sleeping in the dormitory, where have you been?"
"I've been helping to set up the potion shop," Blake replied smoothly. "Now, we're planning to partner with the Delacour and Woley families. Once the deal is secured, I won't have to be away so much."
He had smoothly changed the subject, skillfully avoiding any mention of the Room of Requirement. If Dumbledore ever discovered what he had been up to in there—filling it with poisonous tentacles and Whomping Willows—he might never hear the end of it.
At that moment, Kettleburn, who had been quietly sipping tea, suddenly spoke up.
"Is it true? Did Lockhart really steal others' achievements and use the Forgetfulness Charm to erase their memories?"
Blake nodded. "Yes."
Kettleburn turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, if that's the case, why did you hire him as a professor instead of exposing him?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I only discovered the truth by chance. Some victims I spoke to showed signs of memory alteration. Upon investigation, I found they had all encountered Lockhart. While he erased direct victims' memories, he couldn't erase witnesses' accounts as effectively."
"By then, he was already a best-selling author with a devoted following. Without concrete proof, exposing him would have been futile. His fans would never believe it. So, I hired him as a professor, knowing that an ignorant fraud would eventually expose himself."
Blake quietly sipped his tea, impressed by Dumbledore's calculated patience.
Dumbledore was always bound by rules, choosing to dismantle his enemies step by step.
If Grindelwald or Voldemort were in his place, Lockhart's grave would already have grass three feet tall.
Kettleburn chuckled. "Well, now that Blake has helped cure Lockhart's victims, there's no need to wait. It's time to act. To be honest, I've always disliked that man. He once came to me claiming he wanted to teach me how to care for magical creatures. Now, I suspect he was trying to steal rare bird-snake eggs."
Dumbledore turned to Blake. "What's your plan for Lockhart?"
Blake smirked. "His reputation is everything to him. So, I'll target his reputation."
Kettleburn raised an eyebrow. "How do you plan to do that? While he's made a fool of himself at Hogwarts, the public still sees him as a hero."
Blake shrugged. "Simple. Make sure everyone hears the truth."
"But we lack hard evidence," Dumbledore pointed out.
"Who needs evidence?" Blake said. "Rumors spread faster than facts. All we need is for people to start talking. Then, once his perfect image is tarnished, we'll introduce specious evidence to make his supporters doubt him. The thing he values most—his reputation—will be the very thing that destroys him."
Dumbledore and Kettleburn fell silent, exchanging looks.
Blake's strategy was cunning, almost villainous. It was the classic "destroy what they love most" approach.
"How will you spread these rumors?" Dumbledore asked.
"The Daily Prophet," Blake replied casually.
Dumbledore's expression darkened. "You plan to use that man's influence?"
"Yes. Grindelwald controls the Prophet. If we want this to be effective, we'll need his resources."
Dumbledore sighed. He disliked the idea of Blake relying on Grindelwald, but the logic was sound.
"Fine," he conceded. "Do as you see fit."
Meanwhile, at Nurmengard Academy, Rita Skeeter sat across from Grindelwald, eyeing him warily.
"So, Mr. Headmaster," she said, "who's the target this time?"
Grindelwald smirked. "Gilderoy Lockhart."
Rita blinked. "Lockhart? But he's my favorite author—"
Grindelwald raised an eyebrow, reaching for his wand.
Rita coughed. "I mean, of course not! But I'll need a bigger paycheck!"
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