Hogwarts’s idiot professor

Chapter 103: Death Arrives Silently

The items found from searching the bodies were numerous: wands, an Invisibility Cloak, Felix Felicis, crystal stones imbued with luck, and a large assortment of other small things.

But what pleased Lockhart most were the magical artifacts these people had brought specifically to counter his dark magical creatures.

One was a jar covered in strange paints, meant for the golden retriever.

He had a similar jar himself, but the quality difference was vast. His previous jar could only barely contain the golden retriever, and it would often be topped over accidentally. The first time he received it, Hermione had been hit by one of the golden retriever's plucked eyeballs because of it.

The difference was like that between an ordinary wand and the Elder Wand. This small jar created a world filled with eyeballs, a jar that would make the golden retriever willingly, even eagerly, run into it itself.

The other item was a huge harp. Lockhart didn't understand what this was for, but compared to the phonograph that had previously sealed the Banshee Maiden, it was clearly a similar solution.

These two magical artifacts weren't just expensive; they were things Lockhart could hardly buy anywhere, no matter how many Galleons he offered.

The monopoly of pure-blood families, especially the Sacred Twenty-Eight, on wizarding society's resources wasn't just an economic or political monopoly; it was all-encompassing.

Otherwise, why would young wizards in magical schools desperately strive for high scores in their Ordinary Wizarding Levels (OWLs) and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests (NEWTs)? Wasn't it to join organizations that provided scarce resources after achieving excellent grades?

Take Hagrid, for example. If he left Hogwarts, he might not necessarily become an 'invisible millionaire' as people joked. At least, weaving seat cushions from unicorn tail hair would be out of the question.

Magical schools weren't easy to get into. Hagrid had Dumbledore as his backing; it wasn't easy for other wizards to join such organizations.

In comparison, the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, the Anti-Dark Magic League, and various newspapers were somewhat easier to enter.

But not by much.

Not to mention, these organizations were more or less connected to the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families.

At the Ministry of Magic, for instance, Arthur Weasley, of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, could freely draft wizarding laws that the Wizengamot and Auror Office had to strictly adhere to. An ordinary wizard could never climb to such a level in their lifetime; becoming a regular Auror or other Ministry employee was often the limit.

What was the glory of pure-blood families?

This was it!

Everyone knew Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of his time, so why did so many people still choose to oppose him, preferring to align with Voldemort's faction, who saw them only as tools?

This was the reason.

Dark magical creatures, which were terrifying to many wizards and even many pure-blood families, were truly not an issue in the eyes of these Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families.

They had accumulated a vast array of countermeasures over their long history of inheritance.

Even the Dementors, the terrifying Azkaban prison guards that made everyone's blood run cold, they had their own ways to communicate with these dark magical creatures, and even command them.

Mooncalf dung could make magical plants and herbs grow rapidly and robustly. The Yaxley family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, had a forest estate somewhere in this primeval forest that produced such yield.

In contrast, even an organization as resource-rich as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had to patiently wait for Professor Sprout to slowly cultivate Mandrake, a process that took almost half a year.

Thinking of this, Lockhart's eyes narrowed. He suddenly remembered Corban Yaxley, a high-ranking Ministry official and Death Eater from the Yaxley family.

He easily thought of this person.

After all, during their first encounter at the Anti-Dark Magic League's "We're Not Dead Yet" Club, he had shown extreme hostility towards Lockhart.

He strongly suspected that Voldemort had approached Yaxley, which led to this attack.

Corban, that old fox of an official, was clearly different from many Death Eaters who seemed to be brain-dead. Lockhart had publicly announced that Dumbledore would also be present during this trip with the students. Even if they had found a way to determine that Dumbledore wasn't actually with the group, Yaxley clearly wouldn't have brought people to attack himself.

Finding a way to command Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf living on the fringes of society, and some dark wizards, was undoubtedly an extremely clever move.

These people wouldn't even know who had ordered them to launch this attack.

Of course, another person was also suspicious:

Lucius Malfoy!

This possibility was relatively small, given that Lucius's only son, Draco, was also here. But if Voldemort himself had personally threatened him, it wasn't impossible.

Not to mention, they had entered through the Crabbe family's secret Floo Network fireplace, and old Crabbe had said he and his wife would guard the fireplace for them.

If it really was Lucius behind this, perhaps the moment they stepped out of the fireplace, they might face another ambush.

Snape had recovered at some point, sitting silently beside Lockhart, listening to him analyze these possibilities, his expression flickering.

He smelled the scent of war!

After more than a decade of dormancy, it was once again spreading, allowing him to feel it so clearly.

Voldemort—

He tightened his grip on his wand, finally looking at the young wizards who were captivated by the Flobberworms in the deep lake. "I think you should reconsider some of your actions. Bringing students out so blindly, especially when both you and Harry are being targeted by him, is incredibly unwise!"

He had always been strongly against Lockhart taking the young wizards out for Christmas.

"Come on, don't be like that." Lockhart remained unfazed, turning his hand to present a delicate small teapot to Snape. "Look what this is?"

Snape's expression flickered. He keenly sensed the extremely stable magical fluctuations vaguely emanating from the teapot. "Portkey?"

Lockhart nodded. "Dumbledore made it. I confirmed with him repeatedly before we left that even in a magically protected place like Crabbe's Flobberworm Farm, this Portkey, made by his own hands, would still work."

The implication was that he could take the students directly back to Hogwarts at any time, avoiding any unexpected dangers.

Snape nodded, acknowledging this. "Then quickly send the students back."

Lockhart, however, disagreed. "Hey, Severus, we can't always choose to run away. You have to understand that students need a certain degree of adventure, otherwise, they'll never grow."

He spread his hands. "I must reiterate, I am not the students' babysitter. I train students hoping they will be useful in current adventures and even in the future. I don't want them to be like hothouse flowers who can't handle anything!"

In this regard, Lockhart lacked the gentleness of an academic wizard.

He was more like an old-school martial arts master from his previous life, training disciples, hoping they could all pull their weight so he could just relax and drink tea.

Here we go again!

Adventure!

That despicable word!

Snape forced down his inner resistance and unease. "Then tell me, what happens if a Killing Curse suddenly comes flying at us when we step through the fireplace into an unknown situation?"

Lockhart chuckled, stood up, hands on his hips, looking quite pleased with himself at Snape. "Severus, remember, I am the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. There's always a way to deal with such professional problems."

Snape's face was as foul as a cesspool.

Then he saw Lockhart reach up and grab something from above. A red cloak was pulled down, and suddenly he felt as if he was truly touching the breeze and grass of this primeval forest.

Only then did he realize that they had both been under the cover of this cloak the entire time.

"Dark magical creature," Snape stood up, sneering. "It seems you've forgotten how all your pets were individually countered just now!"

"It's so simple to counter this cloak; a mere Patronus Charm would—"

He trailed off.

He suddenly realized that whether it was Voldemort himself waiting by the fireplace, or other Death Eaters or dark wizards,

They truly wouldn't be able to cast a Patronus Charm!

Even if they brought a few helpers who could cast the Patronus Charm, no one would know to cast this spell at empty air; that would be too bizarre.

This dark magical creature, which resembled a red cloak, had been in this Flobberworm farm for decades, yet no one could figure out what was truly going on. They couldn't even distinguish whether the effects were caused by a dark magical creature or a curse.

A Boggart is only terrifying when you don't know it's a Boggart!

That would make it an almost invincible existence.

Even if Voldemort possessed extremely powerful magic, casting the Killing Curse couldn't harm any Boggart!

Similarly, if the world didn't know about Horcruxes, Voldemort would also be invincible in the wizarding world, even able to outlive Dumbledore!

"This is indeed a lesson!"

Lockhart looked at the golden retriever, whose furry little head poked out of his wizard's robe pocket, looking at him apologetically. He ruffled its head and sighed. "I really shouldn't let others know about the dark magical creatures around me anymore."

He needed his own trump cards.

But this matter clearly needed to be planned slowly afterward. Future dark magical creature pets must be unrecognizable even to his own students.

He had to know how to keep some things hidden.

Lockhart always acted methodically. Once he understood something, he was no longer affected by it. He began to call the students to find ways to catch the Flobberworms in the deep lake, which had become somewhat abundant due to decades of not being caught.

He was in no hurry to leave. If there was truly an ambush, it was others who should be anxious.

Catching Flobberworms was fun and simple. Everyone was an excellent wizard and could always find a magical way.

Cedric cast the Bubble-Head Charm for everyone, creating an air bubble around their heads for underwater breathing and isolating the surrounding air.

The Weasley twins enthusiastically recommended a type of 'snot bubblegum' they invented that could store oxygen, but everyone refused. In the end, only they jumped into the lake with two large bubbles protruding from their nostrils.

After catching the Flobberworms, there was a lively bonfire feast. Everyone ate delicious grilled fish and also collected Flobberworm fish bones for other students at school to use as amulets against the Chamber of Secrets monster in the future.

After that, Lockhart took the opportunity to hold a class, having everyone recount their adventures in the fairy tale and their experiences fighting werewolves and dark wizards in reality, and then letting others analyze and suggest what should have been done at the time, along with professional advice from both professors.

They stayed there for a full day.

No one noticed that a red cloak had once again transformed into a vast, sky-obscuring shadow, covering and protecting them.

The next day, Lockhart told everyone about the possible dangers ahead, pretending to cast a concealment spell to make everyone ignore the red cloak's function.

Only then did they return to the Crabbe family's safe house on the other side of the fireplace, using old Crabbe's crystal ball.

As soon as they emerged from the fireplace, the young wizards gasped.

Blood!

A large amount of blood was splattered on the walls, and the blood on the floor formed a lake. Old Crabbe's wife's head had rolled to one side, her body blown to smithereens and splattered everywhere.

Draco gasped, anxiously pushing aside the students in front of him to go check the situation, but Snape yanked him back.

"This is a curse cast with one's own life!" Snape looked at the dead Mrs. Crabbe, his eyes narrowed, coldly warning the young wizards, "Corpse's in the wizarding world are the most dangerous things. You'll never know what dark magic awaits you!"

They soon found old Crabbe.

His somewhat plump, tall figure stood blocking the safe house door, in a defensive stance, wand raised, but his body was stiff as stone.

Snape examined him for a while, looking at this former comrade in arms, and fell silent. Meeting Lockhart's questioning gaze, he sighed, "Hit by the Killing Curse, dead as can be!"

Old Mr. and Mrs. Crabbe had indeed kept their promise, guarding the fireplace for them. The only problem was, they couldn't hold it, and sacrificed their lives for it.

Draco cried, looking sadly at these elders who had cared for him since childhood. As he cried, he suddenly realized something and tightly grabbed Snape's sleeve. "Professor! My father! Please, quickly contact my father!"

He was scared!

He was so scared!

Scared that he would hear news that his parents had also been harmed.

The surrounding young wizards fell silent. Even Harry, who disliked Draco and wished all Death Eaters were dead, felt a pang of discomfort at the sight.

Draco's father, Lucius, soon arrived, accompanied by old Goyle.

Seeing the scene before them, old Goyle instantly broke down, holding his friend's body and crying heartbreakingly.

Lucius said nothing, only gripping his cane tightly, his face pale and teetering, his eyes filled with tears.

The Malfoys were like that; they couldn't cry, couldn't fall, otherwise, their brethren behind them would have no one left to rely on.

At this moment, his face was so pale, as if he had aged many years in an instant.

The Dark Lord purges traitors!

The Dark Lord is purging traitors!

He knew it. He had already experienced an attack once. He hadn't expected old Crabbe wouldn't escape it either!

Snape sighed and patted his shoulder, quietly and meaningfully saying, "You still have your son to protect. You cannot be impulsive!"

Lucius remained silent, his whole being seemingly plunged into darkness.

Snape pursed his lips and said no more, raising his wand to deal with the curse left by Mrs. Crabbe's body, preventing anyone from accidentally touching it and causing unknown consequences.

Lockhart, standing nearby, was feeling somewhat complex. He suddenly noticed a very abrupt, furtive figure in the crowd—Rita!

Rita Skeeter, the journalist from the Daily Prophet.

How did this fellow get wind of this and show up here?

Rita quietly explained to him, "Your book, Where to Find Dark Magical Creatures... I had to interview parents for it. I happened to be at Malfoy Manor just now—"