Chapter 190: The Fall of the Obliviation Master
Professor McGonagall stared in shock. She rushed forward to stop him. "What do you think you're doing?! Lockhart!"
"Oh, nothing. I just noticed some stains on the chair. I wanted to wipe them off. Yes, just wiping the chair."
Lockhart snapped out of his reverie. He hastily stopped what he was doing. He had been trying to pull out the chair to sit down. He tugged at his sleeve and wiped at the chair, scrambling to explain himself.
Under Professor McGonagall's stern gaze, Lockhart reluctantly stepped away from the long desk. He forced a smile, trying to ease the tension between them.
Several Headmasters in the portraits lining the walls took it all in. Some crowded together within a single frame, pointing at Lockhart with angry faces and muttering about what he had just done.
Even Fawkes had stopped preening. His eyes fixed on Lockhart, his head tilting slightly to track every movement.
Lockhart, who should have savored being the center of attention, was actually feeling rather restless this time.
About a minute passed. Professor McGonagall simply stared at him without saying a word.
Lockhart's smile had frozen into a rigid mask by the time he finally spoke. "Ah, it's hard to say when the Headmaster will return to his office. I'd better head back and wait. I'll come again once he's back."
With that, he cast one last reluctant glance at the long desk that symbolized the Headmaster's position and walked toward the door.
"What a shame. If only I had been here today, I could have sat in on it." Lockhart sighed to himself as he turned to leave.
Professor McGonagall gathered herself and moved to stop him.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the office door opened from the other side.
It was Dumbledore himself, the very person they had all been waiting for.
The old man gave Lockhart a surprised look, his hand still outstretched. "Gilderoy? You're here too? But your timing... are you planning to leave?"
Before Lockhart could speak, Professor McGonagall answered. "Professor Lockhart has some objections to your decision to cancel his exam. When he heard I was coming to the Headmaster's office, he came along with me. He wanted to discuss the matter with you."
Professor McGonagall was being fairly tactful. In truth, Lockhart had barged into her office earlier, demanding an explanation.
But Professor McGonagall clearly had no desire to argue with him about it. Seeing Dumbledore return had put her in good spirits. Even her voice carried a hint of a smile.
"Is that so? Don't be in such a hurry to leave then. As it happens, I have something I need to discuss with you, Gilderoy." Dumbledore smiled as well. He stepped aside slightly, revealing two Aurors behind him. "But before that, let me introduce you to them."
"This is Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Ministry of Magic's Auror Office. And this is his assistant..."
The moment Lockhart saw Dumbledore, he tensed.
He didn't know why. The old man standing before him looked no different from usual, yet Lockhart felt something was off today.
After hearing Scrimgeour's introduction, Lockhart's head began to spin. Danger was closing in.
*Dumbledore canceled my exam out of nowhere. Now he's brought two Aurors to the Headmaster's office. Says he has business to discuss with me?* His mind raced through possibilities. *Could my little secret be out? Has the Ministry gotten wind of what I've done?* The more he thought, the more terrified he became.
His fear wasn't unfounded.
Lockhart knew exactly what he was: a thief who stole credit for other people's heroic deeds and used Memory Charms to erase their memories of those moments.
He'd considered silencing them permanently, of course, but lacked the nerve. Murder was a serious crime. If he got caught, Azkaban would be his home for life.
So to keep his victims quiet indefinitely, Lockhart made it a point to track them down every two years and administer another Memory Charm. It was the only way to prevent his carefully constructed reputation from crumbling.
But as the number of victims grew, his busy schedule made it increasingly difficult to maintain that frequency. Before, he'd been able to visit each victim once a year.
This year, however, things were different. His new position as a Hogwarts professor left him with far less free time. He would have to wait for the holidays to take care of this unpleasant business.
But among the several people who were supposed to receive Memory Charms this year, one had disappeared. No matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find a trace of him. This had never happened before.
After investigating, Lockhart confirmed it. Out of seven people, three had vanished.
But because of the agreement he had made with Dumbledore, and because he had ideas for a new book, Lockhart didn't resign. Instead, he planned to use the holiday time to track down the missing people.
Eventually, he succeeded in finding the wizard whose snowman story he had stolen. At the hospital, under the pretense of a friendly visit, he cast a supplementary Memory Charm on the wizard while he was undergoing treatment.
But the Bandon Banshee and the old Armenian wizard still hadn't been found.
Lockhart wasn't particularly worried about it, either. On the one hand, he had complete confidence in his Memory Charms. On the other hand, he felt things couldn't be that coincidental. So many years had passed without a single problem; why would accidents happen this particular year?
He had originally planned to use the summer break, after resigning, to find those two first, and then handle the publication of his new book.
But the arrival of two Aurors made him start to worry. *Could those two have recovered their memories and exposed my actions to the Ministry of Magic?*
Lockhart's mind was in chaos. He didn't hear a word Dumbledore said after that.
Scrimgeour, noticing Lockhart's distress, seemed to sense something was off. He grasped Lockhart's right hand and said:
"Gilderoy Lockhart. World-renowned author. A familiar face in newspapers and magazines."
"We know your name well enough. I've only ever seen your photographs in print, though. It's good to finally meet you in person."
Huh. Scrimgeour's words actually carried some weight. Lockhart was starting to feel that things might not be as bad as he'd feared.
But while Scrimgeour played the eager fan, there was something too intense in his eyes. His handshake was too enthusiastic as well, leaving Lockhart vaguely uncomfortable.
Scrimgeour's grip clamped around his hand like a vise.
Lockhart kept his professional smile in place despite the painful grip, though the corners of his mouth twitched from time to time.
He tried to pull his hand free, but he couldn't manage it.
"Is that so, Minister Scrimgeour?" Lockhart tugged at his hand. "Let go of me first. I'll go back, get a copy of my latest work, Magical Me, sign it, and give it to you."
But Scrimgeour didn't budge, keeping his grip tight on Lockhart's hand. "No hurry. The book can wait."
Knowing Lockhart well, Scrimgeour had no intention of giving him a chance to reach for his wand or try anything sudden.
Lockhart could only turn his head toward Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I assume these two Aurors came to see you? Since you have guests, I'll leave you to it. My business here is trivial. Cancel the exams, then. So be it. As long as the students learned what they needed to, that's fine."
His words weren't just an attempt to escape; they were also meant to confirm Scrimgeour's purpose.
*Go back and pack. Leave Hogwarts quietly!*
Lockhart felt threatened. *What's a new book to me now? A perfect curtain call? That hardly matters anymore. Making it out of this unsafe school was what mattered most,* he thought.
"Don't go just yet. I have a lot I'd like to discuss with you." Scrimgeour gripped Lockhart's hand and led him into the office.
Then Carl Douglas, acting as his assistant, stepped into the Headmaster's office as well after Scrimgeour gestured for him to follow.
Dumbledore shook his head and closed the door. The Headmaster's office had become a temporary interrogation room.
And while Lockhart was suffering through that, Ethan was taking his Charms written exam.
The Charms exam questions were very simple for Ethan. Less than ten minutes after the papers were handed out, he had already answered every question.
Looking at his classmates, who were either writing furiously or scratching their heads, then glancing at Professor Flitwick pacing back and forth at the podium, Ethan fiddled with his Anti-Cheating Quill, idly thinking about the Aurors he'd seen that morning.
They arrived at the Great Hall after eight. *How long can breakfast possibly take? They must have started by now.* Ethan glanced at the wall clock and estimated the time.
"Professor! Can I hand in my paper early?"
Ethan's quiet voice cut sharply through the silent classroom.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up at Ethan, his hand raised high.
But their reactions varied.
Top students like Hermione merely glanced at him briefly before returning to their work with quiet determination.
For struggling students like Goyle and Crabbe, the exam questions were still nearly impossible even with extra time.
So they felt no resentment toward him. They simply cast envious glances at the top student asking to hand in early.
Goyle, sitting right beside him, looked especially envious, as if he wanted nothing more than to copy Ethan's exam.
Professor Flitwick's gaze locked onto Ethan. He climbed down from his elevated chair and walked to Ethan's desk. "Mr. Jones, finished already?"
"Yes, Professor." Ethan looked up at the professor standing beside him and answered quietly.
"Turning it in early is no problem. Just so you know, once you hand it in, you won't be allowed to make any changes. So are you sure you want to submit it early?"
Students turned in their papers early from time to time, so Professor Flitwick didn't seem surprised. He just asked matter-of-factly.
"I'm sure, Professor." Ethan nodded confidently.
"Good. Roll up your parchment and give it to me. You can leave the exam room." Professor Flitwick knew Ethan's capabilities well enough not to try talking him out of it.
"Thank you, Professor." Ethan rolled up his exam paper and placed it in Professor Flitwick's hand.
"Right. You can go. Don't forget about the afternoon practical exam."
"Mm. I won't forget."
Since all the exam materials were anti-cheating supplies provided by the professor, Ethan didn't need to tidy anything on his desk. He stood up and left the classroom right away, drawing envious stares from the other students.
"Don't even think about cheating." Even though the professor hadn't reached the podium yet and couldn't see what the students were doing, he knew exactly what they were thinking.
Hearing this, the students with less than honest intentions immediately stopped what they were doing. Still, they kept their heads down, desperately trying to squeeze out a few more answers.
Professor Flitwick stepped up to the podium. He picked up Ethan's exam paper, skimmed through it, and nodded in satisfaction. Then he rolled it up and set it aside.
Soon, inspired by Ethan's example, the other students who had finished their exams began following his lead and turning their papers in early.
Professor Flitwick didn't leave the podium this time. Once he was sure they were confident in their answers, he magically summoned their rolled-up papers to the front.
The professor's habit of walking down from the podium had given many students secret hopes of cheating. This greatly disappointed him.
Ethan left the exam room and stepped out into an unusually quiet castle.
It was as quiet as Hogwarts after curfew.
After all, today was the first day of exams. Aside from some sixth and seventh years, no one else had exams today. Only the fourth years had already finished their exam, so they weren't stuck agonizing in the exam room.
But even they were holed up in the library or their common rooms, reviewing for their upcoming subjects. They wouldn't be wandering aimlessly around the castle.
*Should I go take a look at Lockhart's office?*
Ethan handed in his exam early to confirm whether Lockhart had been arrested.
Previously, when he'd followed the story, he had always been somewhat dissatisfied with Lockhart's ending.
Lockhart had hurt so many people. After losing his memory due to his own magical backlash, he wasn't actually sent to Azkaban, but to St. Mungo's Hospital for treatment.
Although it seemed like karmic retribution, it was also something he'd brought upon himself. Even though he hadn't been sentenced by any court.
Ethan made his way through the quiet corridors and up the stairs, arriving at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It should have been hosting an exam at this hour, but instead, it was empty.
"Professor Lockhart!" Ethan climbed the stairs to the office and knocked on the door.
No one answered. Ethan called out several times, and when there was still no response, he concluded that Lockhart wasn't in.
Standing by the stairwell, Ethan was still debating whether to go up to the Headmaster's office when he spotted Lockhart coming down from the upper floors, accompanied by two Aurors.
Ethan brightened. "Oh, good. Now there's no need to worry about that."
Lockhart wore a bright blue wizard's robe. His face was pale, his eyes listless. His hands were hidden beneath wide cuffs, folded in front of him.
He descended the stairs mechanically, one step at a time, under the watchful gaze of the two black-robed Aurors behind him.
Then the three of them noticed him too.
"Shouldn't you be taking your exam? Why are you here?" Scrimgeour asked. He had originally wanted to leave quietly, to preserve Hogwarts's dignity.
"Handed it in early. Just came out of the exam room," Ethan explained simply.
Then, to avoid raising suspicion, he feigned curiosity and asked, "So, what's going on?"
"Oh. Ministry business. We need Professor Lockhart's help." Scrimgeour had clearly prepared for this too.
"Okay. You must be busy, then. I'll head out. Good luck, Professor Lockhart!" Ethan didn't push any further, not wanting to invite trouble. He offered a quick goodbye and headed back down to the dungeon.
"Okay." Lockhart looked despondent. He tried to wave, but his hands were bound. His arm rose slightly before falling back down.
He managed a thin smile, clinging to his last shred of dignity.
Ethan lay by the upstairs window, watching as two guards pushed Lockhart forward. He left the school with slow, deliberate steps.
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