The old wizard’s name was so telling that guessing his identity required no guessing at all.
Gael Greene.
Gellert Grindelwald.
So, Dumbledore had finally released him from prison?
And judging by the suitcase in his hand, it seemed Grindelwald might even be taking a teaching position at Hogwarts.
It was likely, then, that this was what Dumbledore had been occupied with all summer, as Hermione had mentioned.
However, Bruce suddenly raised his head and asked—
“Who’s that wizard?”
What?
Kathoom was puzzled. With such obvious clues, could Bruce really not recognize who it was?
Impossible!
Bruce had studied the history of magic and knew all about Grindelwald’s deeds.
The distinctive heterochromatic eyes, the scarcely disguised name, and the aura unique to him—Bruce should have known immediately.
But somehow, he didn’t.
Since when was the Little Bat’s deductive reasoning this poor?
The owl decided to prompt him. “You saw his name and didn’t think of anyone?”
Bruce shook his head. “No, but judging by the suitcase, he’s likely a new professor at Hogwarts.
“But that’s nothing unusual; Hogwarts changes staff every year.”
Last year, Quirrell had taken up the role, only to be promoted to Azkaban by the end of it.
This old wizard was probably the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
He looked old enough to have experience in fighting the Dark Arts.
Kathoom nodded, piecing together what had happened from Bruce’s comments.
It seemed Grindelwald had enchanted his name so others wouldn’t notice his true identity.
So, why hadn’t Kathoom been affected?
Simple.
Because he wasn’t human.
—
As the line slowly advanced, they finally caught sight of Gilderoy Lockhart.
He sat behind a table, surrounded by large posters of himself. The faces in the photos winked at the crowd, flashing dazzlingly white smiles.
Lockhart was a man of undeniable charm, and Bruce could almost see the pink hearts floating above the heads of grandmothers, mothers, sisters, and girls alike.
Even Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were no exceptions.
Bruce’s guard went up instantly.
This man was definitely no ordinary person.
To be universally attractive to women of all ages, Bruce could hardly resist thinking he might be some kind of succubus.
A short, bad-tempered man with a black camera danced around, snapping photos from every angle.
Amazingly, every time the flash went off, Lockhart was somehow perfectly posed, flashing a flawless smile at the camera.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Harry Potter!”
Suddenly, Lockhart spotted Harry in the crowd.
He rushed over, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him to the front, where the crowd burst into applause.
To meet the famous Boy Who Lived, and a fan of his at that, delighted Lockhart so much he insisted on several photographs together.
From the second floor came a cold scoff, and Bruce looked up to find Draco Malfoy.
The boy looked weary, despite being only twelve, as if he bore countless troubles.
It seemed that Slytherin and the rumors of Voldemort’s revival had troubled his family all summer.
Kathoom noticed Draco, too, and remarked, “Why’s the brat looking so grumpy?”
“Probably jealous of Harry’s fame,” Bruce said casually.
Just then, the crowd erupted into cheers.
Lockhart had just made a big announcement—he would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year.
Bruce had already known that Lockhart would be joining Hogwarts as a teacher since the required reading list for this term had included seven of his books: Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holiday with Hags…
All autobiographies.
Still, he hadn’t expected him to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Bruce was holding a copy of Wanderings with Werewolves and, upon opening it, found himself frowning at the content.
In terms of information, the book was indeed valuable. It offered insightful analyses and methods for handling various creatures, all precise and effective.
Yet aside from the useful information, nearly every page was full of Lockhart’s endless self-praise and narcissism.
Not being a fan of Lockhart, Bruce found it a bit hard to stomach.
He closed the book, only for Kathoom on his shoulder to squawk in protest—
“Don’t close it! I was getting into that!”
“You’re actually interested in this?” Bruce asked in surprise.
“What’s not to like?”
Kathoom said nonchalantly, “Just imagine yourself as Lockhart while reading it.”
Bruce sighed, handing the book to Kathoom, who resumed reading eagerly on his shoulder.
“What’s with this Lockhart, anyway?”
Bruce couldn’t quite figure him out.
He came across as incompetent, yet what he wrote was valuable.
Rubbing his eyes, Bruce began to question his own judgment.
“Confused, aren’t you?”
The owl turned a page without looking up. “Lockhart will be a great teacher. From him, you’ll learn a very valuable skill.”
“What skill?” Bruce asked.
“The art of crafting a public persona.”
—
After the signing, a small scuffle broke out inside Flourish and Blotts.
Draco had gotten into an argument with Harry, which then dragged in Ron’s younger sister, Ginny.
The clash escalated until the adults intervened.
Draco’s father, Lucius Malfoy, seized Ginny’s Transfiguration textbook and sneered, mocking the Weasleys as disgraces to wizardkind, deserving of their poverty.
That went too far.
Ginny’s father, Arthur, tackled Lucius, and they began brawling.
By the time Hagrid had separated them, Mr. Weasley’s lip was split, and Mr. Malfoy’s eye was swollen from a book.
In Lucius’s hand was Ginny’s Transfiguration textbook, which he’d taken from her.
Without a word, he tossed the book into her cauldron, as if nothing had happened, before leaving with a parting sneer.
Kathoom watched the scene with interest.
He’d wondered whether Voldemort, upon returning, would retrieve the diary from the Malfoys.
But it seemed he hadn’t—or perhaps he hadn’t had the chance.
Now, Ginny’s cauldron held the diary once again.
“Ah, Voldemort, with a lackey like Lucius Malfoy, fortune favors you indeed.”
Kathoom glanced over to another corner of the bookstore, where Grindelwald was browsing textbooks, completely unfazed by the conflict.
“Go!”
Kathoom gave a subtle wave of his wing, and Voldemort’s diary vanished from the cauldron.
In its place, Grindelwald’s suitcase gained a little something extra.
“Tom, no need to thank me.”
Kathoom muttered contentedly, “Your best luck is yet to come.”
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.