"Of course," Lockhart said with a beaming smile, flashing his dazzling white teeth.
"Headmaster Dumbledore personally sought me out and invited me to take up a teaching post at Hogwarts. I wasn't keen at first, you know—my career was on the rise. I mean, I was busy combating dark magic. But Dumbledore was in desperate need of staff." He suddenly glanced at Harry. "I thought it over for a few days and finally decided to accept the offer. Call it a bit of a break… and a chance to pass on my experience in fighting dark magic to these fine young students."
Lockhart went on at length, while Umbridge's quill scratched across the parchment so furiously it might've sparked.
"I've heard you have other ventures," Umbridge said. "Something about a shampoo, perhaps?"
"Erumpent Egg Hair Tonic," Lockhart clarified.
"Right," Umbridge continued. "But how do you find the time to write? You've published quite a number of books—dozens, perhaps…"
"I write in my spare time," Lockhart said. "Sometimes in the field, sometimes in a tavern, sometimes in the homes of villagers I've helped. I remember one time—"
"I see," Umbridge cut in briskly, her toad-like mouth stretching into an even wider grin.
Hodge Blackthorn watched the exchange closely. From the meticulous detail in Umbridge's notes, he strongly suspected this conversation would serve as key evidence in some future inquiry.
"Anything else you'd like to ask?" Lockhart said, clearly reluctant to let the spotlight fade. "By the way, will all this be passed along to the Minister? Oh, splendid! I have a small suggestion—I could provide a detailed report myself. Not that I think I know better, of course, just that I happen to have some insights…"
"I'll consider it," Umbridge replied, her face expressionless. "What do you think of your teaching methods? I find them more akin to performance than…" She drew out her words, choosing them carefully, "…actually imparting knowledge."
"Performance? Of course it's teaching!" Lockhart exclaimed, visibly irritated as he wagged a finger in front of Umbridge's broad face. Her eyebrows shot up so high they nearly flew off her forehead. The students, who had been slumped over their desks, lifted their heads in unison. This scene was far more entertaining than scribbling odes to Lockhart's glory. Hodge caught Ron winking furiously at Harry, who stared at Lockhart, transfixed.
"Well—it's like this," Lockhart said, his tone more cautious now. Hodge noticed a flicker of wariness in his eyes. "It's a new teaching method—acting out my real-life experiences so students can observe firsthand how to deal with dark creatures."
Hodge couldn't argue with the logic—it was classic Lockhart, all flash and fine words. But he wished they could learn actual firsthand knowledge about fighting dark creatures and dark magic, not some second-rate wizard's embellished tales.
"Is that something you came up with in the field or at one of those taverns?" Umbridge asked, her voice laced with skepticism.
"Absolutely!" Lockhart said, his face lighting up as he recalled. "Two years ago, in a marshy delta of the Danube in Romania, after handling a particularly tricky case, I jotted down some notes during a break. Those became the first draft of Travels with Trolls. If you'd like to know how I dealt with those bloodsucking fiends—"
"Thank you," Umbridge interrupted sharply. "So, if I visited this tavern you mentioned, I'd hear these heroic tales firsthand? What's it called?"
"Oh, that—" Lockhart faltered, his voice trailing off. "A quaint little out-of-the-way place. I stumbled upon it by chance—yes, pure chance. That's how it goes sometimes. You never know what's around the next corner. Could be sudden danger, or perhaps a quiet little tavern—" He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening.
In the middle of the classroom, Hodge was flipping through Terry's newspaper, seemingly searching for something interesting. At that moment, Lockhart's gaze landed on a glaring headline taking up half the front page, accompanied by his own unmistakable photograph. The bold title read: "Celebrity Scandal: Renowned Anti-Dark Magic Author Caught Publicly Vanishing a Student's Bones."
Lockhart's face drained of color.
"I see," Umbridge said, scribbling a few quick notes before tucking her clipboard away.
Lockhart, flustered, stammered, "Are you done? Do you have any other—I mean, I could share—"
"That's quite enough," Umbridge said with a saccharine smile. "Rest assured, this will reach the Minister soon enough." Just then, the bell rang.
The students reluctantly shuffled out of the classroom. Hodge handed the newspaper back to Terry. In the article, penned by none other than Rita Skeeter, one paragraph stood out as particularly scathing:
"Young Malfoy remains in the hospital wing. Sources say he must endure excruciating pain while his bones regrow one by one—a process akin to torture. Mr. Lucius Malfoy has restrained his anger, though he is deeply pained by his son's unprovoked injury. Still, he maintained composure before reporters. 'I trust the Headmaster will investigate thoroughly,' he said. At his behest, several school governors have agreed to adopt a wait-and-see approach. However, the much-lauded Headmaster Dumbledore has taken no action thus far. The school recently suffered an attack on a ghost, and the culprit remains at large. Minister Fudge, gravely concerned, has sent a trusted aide to Hogwarts to restore order and prevent further incidents. He has also vowed to apprehend Sirius Black…"
Hodge considered this paragraph the article's crux. It painted Lucius Malfoy as both furious and calculated, hinted at Dumbledore's incompetence and leniency toward pure-blood violence, and subtly endorsed Cornelius Fudge's "emergency measures."
Hodge sensed a power struggle brewing against Hogwarts.
He couldn't quite figure out what Dumbledore was playing at, but he resolved to pick up the pace. The basilisk, Horcruxes, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, Dementors, Lockhart, Umbridge, Fudge… all these threads were tangled together. One wrong move could unravel everything, and the thought alone was enough to give him a headache.
That day, Hodge found himself near the Forbidden Forest, but before he could get any closer, a man with short, graying hair stopped him.
"Students are forbidden from entering the forest," the man said warily.
"I know. I heard there are Dementors in there," Hodge replied, his eyes flicking over the man, matching his appearance to the description Tonks had provided. "You're from the Ministry?"
"John Dawlish," the man said, his hand casually slipping into his coat pocket.
Hodge's gaze locked onto the subtle movement of Dawlish's wrist. "Hodge Blackthorn," he introduced himself.
"Oh, it's you," Dawlish said, his expression still guarded but softening slightly. He no longer seemed ready to draw his wand. "I thought it was odd. Most students wouldn't be so calm."
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