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Watching a group of cheering young wizards leave the classroom, Almastar's mind was filled with confusion, bewilderment, and self-doubt. However, he finally understood one thing: why Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall couldn't stand Lockhart's teaching style!
This might just be an isolated case, Almastar thought vaguely on his way back to his office, having been forced to read half a book.
However, in the following days, the cruel reality proved to him that Lockhart's teaching method was indeed that absurd!
"How did Dumbledore find such a weirdo?"
On Thursday morning, Almastar, leaving the first-year classroom to head to the Great Hall for lunch, couldn't help but feel indignant for the young wizards. When he was studying at this school, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors also changed every year, and their quality varied, but at least those professors were genuinely dedicated to teaching, completely unlike Lockhart, who had forcibly turned the subject into a recitation class and a performance class.
Speaking of performance, that was yesterday afternoon. It was his first time teaching Harry's year, and he had held a certain expectation beforehand, thinking that Lockhart would show some restraint in front of the "protagonist," but the result left him dumbfounded. For a full two hours, Almastar played the role of a grateful, simple villager from the Himalayas, while Lockhart forced Harry to play a snowman, and he himself played himself.
"Do something, Professor Brain!" When the Defense Against the Dark Arts class ended, Harry, who had been chased up and down by Lockhart and accidentally fell off a desk, held his bruised shin and looked at him desperately, "I'll be eternally grateful to you!" Ron covered his mouth, desperately trying to stifle his laughter, but soon he also bared his teeth and shrieked, because Hermione, carrying several Lockhart books, stepped heavily on his foot as she passed him.
"I think your performance was wonderful, Professor Brain!" Hermione glared fiercely at Ron, then, her face flushed, said something to Almastar and quickly ran off.
Performance was wonderful? Is that the point, Miss Granger? Almastar looked at the running girl in surprise, a completely bewildered expression on his face.
"Her opinion is different from ours, Professor Brainâ" Dean Thomas rationally told Almastar, "Hermione greatly admires Professor Lockhart. She has always tried to convince everyone to believe that the absurd adventures written in Professor Lockhart's books are true, but she has never been able to provide evidence. But now, she has finally found a fan of Professor Lockhartâsomeone with 'weight'."
"Who is it?" Almastar asked, his eyebrows raised high.
"It's you, Professor Brain." Harry quietly observed Almastar's expression and said very cautiously, "Hermione told me that she personally heard Professor Lockhart say that you are his devoted fanâ"
Almastar rolled his eyes extremely high, seriously pondering the suggestion Professor Snape had mentioned earlier.
During lunch, while Lockhart was garrulously boasting to a very annoyed Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall stretched her head over and glared very sternly at Almastar, saying in an almost whisper, "Professor Brain, Hogwarts pays your salary not for you to follow him and give recitation classes to the young wizards. Show your true level, Almastar, you promised me!"
Almastar put down the lemon meringue pie in his hand. Looking at the bustling Great Hall, he saw Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table looking at him with confusion. On the Ravenclaw side, a few girls were pointing at him and secretly shaking their heads.
"Headmaster Dumbledoreâ" Almastar blinked, his tone very calm.
"Do you have any advice, Almastar?" Dumbledore, as if completely unrelated to the matter, twitched his beard and snapped out of his state of intensely scrutinizing a cauldron-shaped cake. "If I were to invite Professor Lockhart for a drink, and accidentally add something to his cup while he's drinking, causing him to have to rest in bed for a while, would you mind?"
Snape, who had been looking down, finally stopped being stingy with his gaze. His lips curved, and his empty eyes gained a bit of sparkle. "--Do you remember what I taught in your first class, Almastar?"
"Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion made from powdered asphodel and a wormwood infusion. Normally, it makes a person drowsy and confined to bed for a week. But if taken with high-concentration alcohol and without proper treatment, it can leave a person in a confused state, unable to speak coherently, for two months."
Almastar casually nodded at Snape. "You know, Professor Snape, my memory has always been excellent. So, what's your opinion, Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"Cough, cough, Almastarâ" Dumbledore suddenly looked up, starting to study the patterns on the chandeliers above the Great Hall. His piercing blue eyes were no longer so penetrating, but rather hazy. "I am one hundred and twelve years old this year. The power of time is truly terrifying. I've recently noticed that my legs are not as nimble as before, my eyesight is starting to blur, and my hearing is a bit dull. So, regarding what you were just discussing with Severus and Minerva, I didn't hear a single wordâ"
Professor McGonagall's lips were tightly pursed, half helpless and half angry, as she glared at him. But Dumbledore didn't give Professor McGonagall a chance to complain. He directly stood up and said to the group who were plotting to harm a famous author and Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that he was feeling unwell and needed to rest in his office, then he left.
"I'll have what you need delivered to your office before nine tonight." Professor Snape also stood up, his departing figure seeming eager.
"Poppy!" Under Almastar's knowing gaze, Professor McGonagall, feeling a bit ashamed and annoyed, turned to look at Madame Pomfrey, who was with the scraggly old man. "If you're free tonight, could you come to my office for a moment? I have something I'd like to discuss with you privatelyâ"
"Oh, no problem, Minerva, I'll be on time!" Madame Pomfrey, thinking her salary was about to increase, beamed and joyfully agreed.
"Cough, cough, Professor Lockhartâ" After Professor McGonagall left, the previously bustling faculty table was now nearly half empty. Flitwick, taking advantage of Almastar speaking to Lockhart, slipped away like a flash. His incredibly agile movements vaguely revealed the grace of a former dueling champion!
"Aha, Almastar, you also want to get my Valentine's Day card early, just like Filius, eh? Oh! This truly puts me in a difficult position, but..."
"Actually," Almastar directly interrupted Lockhart's long-winded speech, "During the second-year Defense class last time, I learned from Miss Granger that your most beloved birthday gift is a case of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. Oh, speaking of which, how lucky! I happen to have a bottle of over eighty-year-old Firewhisky gifted by Headmaster Dumbledore. I wonder if I would have the honor of inviting you to the Three Broomsticks for a drink this Saturday?"
"Now what do you two have to say?" Hermione, at the Gryffindor table, craned her neck to listen to the professors' conversation. She looked at Harry and Ron, who were exchanging bewildered glances, then haughtily lifted her chin, "He's his fan!"
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