Chapter 43
Late at night, Lucian quietly returned to his office; his two assistants were still awake.
Seeing Lucian return safely, Camille hurried over to him, while Jeffery secretly breathed a sigh of relief—during the time they had been waiting, Camille had already drunk three vials of Calming Draught.
Sometimes Jeffery couldn't help but wonder if Camille's curse had already been lifted. Otherwise, even though it was now the new month of January, why was she still so concerned about the professor?
But when he recalled the cold, indifferent look Camille had given him earlier in the month, the effects of the curse were clearly still in play. It was truly incomprehensible.
"Professor, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, don't worry. It was just a misunderstanding—it's been resolved." Back in the familiar office, Lucian's nerves finally relaxed completely.
He looked toward the large floor-to-ceiling window—outside, it was raining, and the view beyond the glass appeared especially gloomy.
Yet in that gloom, he somehow found a sense of tranquility and beauty. Lucian instinctively walked forward, suddenly feeling that something was missing from the room- a sofa.
So he shifted the central table and chairs slightly to the right, then transfigured a large red leather sofa facing the window.
"Ah..."
He collapsed onto it, sinking slightly into the leather with a soft creak, his eyes blankly staring out the window; amid the rainy gloom, an autumn breeze stirred, sending a fallen leaf dancing up and down in the darkness before the wind carried it out of sight, high into the distance.
"Professor, are you tired?"
"What happened today? Can you tell us about it?" At some point, Jeffery and Camille had come to stand behind him.
"Hmm— a lot happened, but I don't have the energy to talk about it tonight. You've been worrying all evening; you must be exhausted too. Go back and rest. We can talk about anything tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to be alone." Lucian's voice sounded lazy and listless.
But to his two assistants, it was unusually jarring.
They exchanged a silent glance, both seeing the seriousness in each other's eyes—this was the first time they had ever seen the professor so lacking in spirit.
What on earth had happened?
"Professor—" Camille spoke first, her voice very soft. "Can we just stay here quietly?"
Jeffery quickly added "We won't make any noise. Please let us stay with you through this time."
"What are you doing?" The leather sofa creaked again as Lucian turned his head to look at his two assistants behind him.
Suddenly, he felt a pang of softness in his heart. Over these years, who had he truly let down—if not just himself?
His two assistants had followed him since they were around twelve years old, studying magic every day without complaint or fatigue, and often even helping him with trivial tasks.
"They're really like they were carved from the same mold."
Lucian suddenly chuckled lightly and said to them "Jeffery, Camille, since you don't want to sleep, come over here and keep me company."
The two assistants gladly agreed, respectfully sitting one on each side of him—they knew that the professor's unusual behavior meant he must be troubled by something. As long as he didn't speak up, the greatest support they could offer was simply their presence.
Lucian slumped back onto the sofa.
His arms sprawled wide, he focused intently on the raindrops pattering against the window and slowly trickling down.
Yet throughout this, the upright, proper figures of his two assistants kept naturally catching his eye. As Lucian watched their backs, just watching them, his originally weary spirit suddenly felt much lighter.
Abruptly, he propped himself up on the sofa and gently placed a hand on each of their heads.
"I've found my path, so from now on, you don't have to force yourselves to follow me anymore. You should go find your own paths too."
"Professor, what do you mean—are you leaving us?" Panic was visibly evident in their eyes.
"No, of course not." Looking at them, a rare gentle expression appeared on Lucian's face "You are the most important people to me. We will never be separated."
The next day, the sun rose as usual; the holidays ended, and the young wizards resumed classes amid swirling undercurrents.
From the morning onward, rumors about the Chamber began circulating among the four houses.
By the time classes were about to start, nearly every young wizard knew about it—and unease quickly spread; except for the Slytherin students, who began acting arrogantly, looking down their noses at everyone.
The other students either suddenly started wearing glasses or kept mirrors close at hand—though they didn't know what good it would do.
In fact, aside from Hermione and a few others, even Malfoy didn't know that what was locked in the Chamber was actually a basilisk.
The students only knew that a place called the Chamber of Secrets might have been opened, and some terrifying creature could be prowling at night. If you weren't carrying a mirror or glass, you might be targeted by "it."
This was the initial version crafted by Cedric and Hermione.
But it quickly evolved into all sorts of variations in the young wizards' retellings—anything and everything was said.
All kinds of absurd rumors spread through the Great Hall like the flu. Exchanging protective amulets became popular among the groups of young wizards, and their inner fears eased somewhat through this interaction.
By the time Snape entered the classroom, they were still engrossed in discussing it, enjoying themselves immensely.
"Put away all these ridiculous things at once!"
"Ah!" Some witch let out a startled scream, and the students frantically scrambled to tidy up what they had in hand—their fear in that moment even surpassing that of facing the Chamber's ghost directly.
They all knew full well how strict Snape was; but today, something seemed different. Normally, if Snape discovered unrelated items in class, he would surely say something like— "I had thought that in your pathetically limited brains, at least a shred of reason remained to distinguish myth from reality. Clearly, I have once again overestimated your intelligence."
Yet today, Snape merely watched them calmly as they fumbled to put things away?
One young wizard who packed up quickly looked up in panic and met Snape's gaze directly—he froze.
His expression was as horrified as if he'd seen a Mandrake doing a tap dance; the usually icy-cold Professor Snape... was smiling?
'Could the rumors from this morning really be true? Was Hogwarts truly about to be destroyed?!'
"..."
Just then, Snape noticed a student staring at him and quickly suppressed his smile.
"Ahem!" He cleared his throat heavily, restoring his stern expression.
But in his mind, he couldn't help replaying what Lucian had said to him yesterday—"Snape, you're actually not that bad of a guy."
'No, this is class, i can't smile now.'
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