While Hermione went to fetch the portrait, William pointed his wand at Rita's head and began modifying her memory.
This was a delicate task, one that required precision. William couldn't afford to be as careless as Lockheart, who had a reputation for botching things up.
Otherwise, Rita's mind might suffer irreversible damage.
Fortunately, the modifications were minimal. He only needed to alter the part where Hermione appeared as a "cat girl."
William's technique was steady as he was a veteran at this.
Of course, he never assumed this method was foolproof.
For skilled wizards, tools like Veritaserum, Legilimency, or even torture could eventually unearth memories that had been buried, given enough time and patience.
However, any wizard capable of such feats would be powerful enough that William and Hermione's little secrets wouldn't be of interest to them.
Once the memory modification was complete, William dumped Rita behind the sofa to keep her out of sight.
If Dumbledore saw Rita Skeeter lounging on William's sofa... no matter how you spun it, it wouldn't look good.
Hermione returned with the portrait. William tapped the ancient runes engraved on its frame, and after a moment, Dumbledore's head appeared in the frame.
"There's something I need to consult you about, Professor," William said to the portrait.
"If I accidentally revealed this location to a witch... but I don't want her to ever enter this house again, what should I do? Would changing the Secret-Keeper of the Fidelius Charm help?"
Rita being able to enter the house had become a security concern. William needed to eliminate this potential threat.
This house was meant to be a safe house, Hermione and Annie would be living here for quite some time, and he didn't want any vulnerabilities.
Stan Shunpike had been a hard-learned lesson. One careless slip had almost given away the location of his sanctuary.
The magical world wasn't as safe as it seemed. No matter how cautious he was, it was never too much.
He had no intention of coming home one day only to find two lifeless, cold bodies lying on the floor.
The portrait disappeared briefly and returned about ten minutes later.
"'I' told me that changing the Secret-Keeper won't work," the portrait said softly, "Any wizard who has already entered the house will still be able to enter."
"What about the Obliviate charm?" William asked, "If I cast 'Obliviate' and make her forget the location of the house?"
This time, the portrait didn't leave, Dumbledore had clearly anticipated William's next question.
"No, that won't work. It only causes temporary forgetfulness. The memory remains buried in the subconscious, and the person will still be able to enter the house."
William frowned slightly.
The portrait continued in a gentle tone: "'I' told me that you can try using an Unbreakable Vow.
"If you and the other party enter into a vow that she will permanently forget this secret, the magic of the vow will bind her, preventing her from ever entering the house again."
"William immediately understood and grinned. "As expected of Professor Dumbledore, you're brilliant."
"Thank you, I think so too," the portrait Dumbledore replied with a soft chuckle.
What the...?
Did Dumbledore really pass down his self-praise habits to his portrait?
...
Three days before the end of the Christmas holiday, William finally restored Hermione to full health, transforming her back from a cat girl to a human.
In the language of xianxia, it was akin to shedding her feline form and ascending to the path of cultivation.
The process had taken a toll on William, leaving him mentally and physically exhausted.
The day before the new term began, they returned to Hogwarts.
This time, they didn't use the Floo Network. Instead, William used Apparition to arrive at Hogsmeade. After taking a stroll around the village with Hermione, they finally made their way back to the castle.
William's return was welcome news to the Weasley twins, it meant they could resume their "Sewer Unearthig" project.
That evening, the Great Hall hosted a lavish feast.
Dumbledore was in an exceptionally good mood, wearing a purple robe embroidered with large gold peony flowers. He looked unusually flamboyant.
There was something regal and intimidating about his look, like an eastern warlord who was both fierce and commanding.
Professor McGonagall proudly handed out commemorative Hawaiian Underwater Quidditch badges to the other professors.
Her goal was to fund an entire world tour before retirement, this was her 36th year at Hogwarts, after all.
The road ahead was long, and McGonagall was determined to see it through!
Professor Flitwick looked quite cheerful, clearly thriving in the matchmaking scene. After all, his nickname was "The Eternal Evergreen of Speed Dating."
Snape, as always, was wrapped tightly in his black robes, looking perpetually sullen and antisocial.
Dumbledore tried several times to persuade him to drink some firewhisky, but Snape coldly refused, alcohol dulled the senses, and Snape always preferred to stay alert.
Otherwise, who knew what someone might do to him in the dead of night?
Lockhart, on the other hand, was in high spirits. He downed several bottles of firewhisky as if he were celebrating something.
Sure enough, just as the feast was about to end, Lockhart stood up and announced loudly:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have some wonderful news! The issue with the Chamber of Secrets will soon be resolved, by none other than me, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class!"
All the students turned to stare at Lockhart, unsure what new nonsense he was spouting.
Lockhart raised his hands, signaling for everyone to quiet down.
He hiccupped and declared loudly:
"That's right! Although the perpetrator has been too frightened by my presence to act further...
"I, the great Gilderoy Lockhart, will still bring an end to this matter and bring justice to the students who have been attacked.
"And I already know who the culprit is."
His flushed face made him seem as if he truly had uncovered the attacker's identity.
Professor Snape, who had been observing from the sidelines, let out a quiet, mocking laugh. He loved Lockhart, it was impressive how the man could amuse Snape without even trying.
But wait... Snape's smile faltered as a thought struck him. He remembered the debacle with Tywin a few years ago.
Back then, Snape had been as innocent as a lamb, yet he was dragged away by the Ministry of Magic multiple times as a suspect.
Could Lockhart be about to accuse him?
While Snape was lost in thought, Lockhart continued speaking loudly:
"To boost everyone's morale, I will be organizing an event!
"You all know how much the school needs a morale boost after the events of last term! I can't say much yet, but rest assured, I have everything under control!"
Whether or not Lockhart actually knew who the culprit was remained a mystery. But it didn't take long for everyone to find out how he planned to "boost morale."
…
February 14th—Valentine's Day.
Early in the morning, hundreds of owls flew into the Great Hall.
The sheer number of them resembled a storm cloud, though more like a thundercloud, as feathers and droppings rained down on the food below.
Fortunately, William had anticipated something like this. With a wave of his wand, he conjured a protective dome, shielding the Ravenclaw table and preserving its pristine state.
Many students from other houses quickly crowded around the Ravenclaw table to "borrow" their clean space for breakfast.
"Come on, everyone—gather around!" Lockhart called out enthusiastically.
He was dressed in a bright pink robe and urged the students to use the items the owls had delivered to decorate the Great Hall.
Under Lockhart's direction, the walls were soon covered in large, vibrant pink flowers.
Worse still, countless heart-shaped confetti rained continuously from the pale blue ceiling like enchanted snowfall.
To the untrained eye, it looked like preparations for a wedding.
A wedding?
Snape's mind drifted for a moment.
Dumbledore let out a soft sigh.
Both of them lowered their heads simultaneously, looking thoroughly disillusioned.
Sigh.
These days, who didn't have a few painful memories they'd rather forget?