At seven o'clock, Harry and Hermione left the Great Hall precisely on time, heading towards the passage that led to Sir Nicholas's party. The underground corridor was already lit with candles on both sides, guiding the visitors. They easily found the venue for the Deathday Party.
Sir Nicholas was at the entrance, greeting guests. When he saw Harry, his eyes lit up. "Harry, thank you so much! I truly didn't expect you'd actually manage to invite Professor Lockhart!" Sir Nicholas greeted him enthusiastically.
"Happy five-hundredth Deathday, Nick! This is my companion, Hermione," Harry said.
"Hello, Sir Nicholas. This is my first time attending a ghost's Deathday Party, and I'm very grateful for your invitation," Hermione said, a little nervous.
"Don't be nervous, young lady. A ghost's Deathday Party is really no different from a normal person's birthday celebration," Sir Nicholas said gently.
After the pleasantries, Harry asked, "Has Lockhart arrived yet?"
"Yes, look, he's right over there." Harry looked in the direction Sir Nicholas indicated. Lockhart, dressed to the nines, was chatting with a female ghost in a white dress.
Blast it, I can't believe Lockhart's even preying on ghosts, Harry cursed under his breath. He had to figure out a way to ensure that female ghost wouldn't interfere with their plan.
"Sir Nicholas, if Fred arrives, please send him to find me," Harry said, then led Hermione inside.
"No problem, have fun..."
Upon entering the hall, Hermione curiously observed her surroundings. It was her first time attending a ghost's Deathday Party, and everything here felt new and exciting to her.
"Harry, you were right. It's a good thing we ate something in the Great Hall first, otherwise we'd be starving tonight," Hermione said with a look of disgust at the rotten herring on the dining table.
"It can't be helped. Nick's never invited living people to a Deathday Party before, so the preparations might not be entirely... thorough," a plump ghost said. Noticing their puzzled looks, the ghost added, "We believe only truly foul-smelling food allows ghosts to taste anything."
No sooner had the plump ghost finished speaking than they saw a grim-faced male ghost open his mouth wide, pass through a rotten herring, and then smile contentedly. Hermione watched the scene and felt goosebumps rise on her arms. She vigorously rubbed her arm.
"Ugh, that looks disgusting... Oh no, I mean, that looks truly memorable." Hermione caught herself mid-sentence, realizing a ghost was standing nearby. She quickly apologized. Fortunately, the plump ghost just waved his hand.
"It's quite alright. By the way, I haven't introduced myself. I'm the Hufflepuff ghost; everyone calls me the Fat Friar."
"Hello, Fat Friar. I'm Hermione Granger from Gryffindor, and this is Harry Potter," Hermione quickly introduced.
"Oh, of course I know who this young wizard is! Nick has been boasting for ages that the Boy Who Lived would be attending his Deathday Party," the Fat Friar said with a smile.
The Fat Friar then continued, "May I call you Harry? I've actually wanted to meet you for a long time. Everyone believes you're destined to become a great wizard."
This was the first time anyone had praised him so directly, and Harry didn't know how to respond, so he simply smiled.
"Who is 'everyone'? And why can't I become a great wizard?" Hermione asked indignantly.
"Hahahaha... Hermione, if I may call you that. Though we are but ghosts, we've seen countless brilliant minds here at Hogwarts. You certainly have talent, but you're just missing that little something," the Fat Friar said, stroking his belly and chuckling.
Seeing Hermione's still indignant expression, the Fat Friar's smile faded. He floated in place, pondering quietly for a moment.
How can he so easily pass judgment on my future? Hermione thought indignantly. She was ready to debate the Fat Friar; she would never give up easily. Hermione waited patiently, and Harry also wanted to see what the Fat Friar would say.
After a good while, the Fat Friar finally spoke: "Hermione, whose magical power is greater, yours or Harry's?"
"Harry's, of course! The professors all say his magical power is greater than even the older students'," Hermione said without thinking.
The Fat Friar immediately said, "Possessing extraordinary magical power doesn't necessarily make one a great wizard, but great wizards always possess extraordinary magical power."
"Is there a direct link between magical power and greatness?" Hermione asked, unwilling to concede.
"Without immense magical power, how can you conduct profound magical research? How can you defeat challengers? Look through the history of magic; the great wizards recorded there could all stand against entire nations alone. No great wizard has ever been ganged up on and killed."
After hearing the Fat Friar's point of view, Hermione opened her mouth as if to retort, but in the end, she nodded dejectedly. "You have a point. My magical power isn't exactly abundant..." Hermione said weakly.
Suddenly, Harry spoke up from the side: "I believe Hermione will definitely become a great witch in the future. She—"
Hermione, hearing this, wasn't pleased at all. Instead, she lightly hit Harry's arm, wanting him to stop talking. Hermione thought Harry was just blindly siding with her.
"—she is the most talented and kind witch I have ever met. She will never be mediocre." But Harry insisted on finishing his sentence; it wasn't the blind siding Hermione had expected.
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said, touched.
The Fat Friar agreed. "Indeed, it's not only great wizards who can achieve great things. Throughout history, many ordinary wizards have accomplished many meaningful deeds."
Soon, Hermione regained her composure. She firmly told the Fat Friar, "Harry is right. Even if I can't become a great wizard, I will certainly achieve something significant."
As Hermione spoke, Harry silently added in his mind: I will help you clear away any obstacles in your path.
"In fact, I owe you an apology, Hermione. I didn't explain the difference between a great wizard and a Grand Wizard clearly enough. While you may not become a Grand Wizard, you have the potential to become a great wizard," the Fat Friar said apologetically.
"So, a great wizard isn't necessarily a Grand Wizard, but a Grand Wizard is always a great wizard? Is that what you mean?" Harry asked.
The Fat Friar nodded.
Hermione's lips unconsciously curved into a smile. She said to the Fat Friar, "It's alright, I don't mind anymore... Aren't you going to try the rotten herring?"
At this moment, a long queue had formed at the dining table, with ghosts one after another opening their mouths wide and vigorously inhaling the rotten herring. After watching for a while, Harry suddenly asked, "Can they really taste the food like that?"
Hearing this, Hermione immediately poked Harry's arm. She felt the question was incredibly impolite. The Fat Friar, however, seemed unconcerned. He explained, "Oh, of course not. It's just for psychological comfort. I don't like doing it myself, because I think it's pointless. After all, we can't truly taste the herring."
Harry nodded thoughtfully after hearing this. Harry thought to himself: Perhaps this is why Dumbledore arranged for ghosts to patrol at night? The attacker's petrifying attacks can't harm ghosts?
After a while, Harry decided to check on Lockhart.
"Hermione, I'm going to the loo," Harry said, patting Hermione's shoulder, who was deep in conversation with the Fat Friar. Hermione was a little curious why Harry was going to the loo so soon after arriving, but she didn't think much of it. She waved her hand to indicate she heard him, then turned back to excitedly continue chatting with the Fat Friar.
Harry quietly approached Lockhart's direction, then found a spot where he could hear the conversation without being seen.
"My dear Lady Grey, Headmaster Dumbledore told me you are Ravenclaw's daughter?" Lockhart said with an oily smile.
"Heh, so you've finally shown your true colors. So Dumbledore sent you," Lady Grey sneered.
"You misunderstand, madam. I was drawn by your charm; you don't know how captivating you are..."
Listening to their conversation, Harry realized things weren't as he had thought. Lady Grey seemed completely uninterested in Lockhart. Harry had initially thought Lockhart was interested in Lady Grey, but it turned out Lockhart was interested in Lady Grey's mother. Given this situation, Harry decided not to eavesdrop any longer.
Suddenly, someone reached out and patted Harry's shoulder. Harry turned curiously, and it was Fred.
"Fred, why are you alone?" Harry looked around, not seeing George, and asked Fred. Fred, however, misunderstood and thought Harry was asking where Angelina was. He explained, "Angelina's on the other side. I wouldn't dare let her see Lockhart here."
"I was asking where George is," Harry had to ask again.
Fred's eyes widened. "What are you thinking, Harry? If I showed up in front of Angelina with George transformed into a woman, she'd kill me!"
Harry gave an awkward laugh. He really hadn't thought of that.
"I told George to come in later. You have no idea how much effort it took to get George to drink that Polyjuice Potion..."
Hearing Fred start to complain, Harry quickly told him to stop. "Quick! Lockhart's coming this way!" Harry said urgently. Fred looked up and saw Lockhart heading towards them. He quickly followed Harry and ran off.
Lockhart didn't notice their situation; in fact, he was incredibly excited right now and had completely forgotten about Harry. Although Lady Grey refused to admit she was Ravenclaw's daughter, Lockhart, with his extensive experience with women, easily determined that Lady Grey was lying. Furthermore, Lockhart believed that with his charm, he would eventually open Lady Grey's heart, and then all of Ravenclaw's hidden secrets would be his.
I can't believe that old Dumbledore was actually telling the truth! Ravenclaw's daughter really did become a ghost! If I can write a book about this, I'll definitely become the most famous author of this century! Lockhart thought excitedly. He had even already conceived the title for his book: Gilderoy Lockhart and the Unspeakable Story of Ravenclaw.
Grrr...
Just then, Lockhart's stomach rumbled at an inconvenient moment. Blast it, this cursed Deathday Party has no edible food! Nearly Headless Nick actually dares to be so negligent towards the greatest author of this century! Don't expect me to speak up for you later. Lockhart cursed under his breath.
If Lockhart had known that Sir Nicholas had no intention of having guests give speeches, he probably would have left long ago. But Lockhart was still in the dark. He decided to find something to eat to replenish his energy. He hadn't eaten all day to fit into this flashy tuxedo.
Watching Lockhart circle the dining table, Harry whispered to Fred, "Where's the thing I asked you to bring?"
"Right here. This stuff was a real pain to get," Fred said, pulling a bottle of vodka from under his robes. Harry took the vodka, checked the label to confirm it was 90% alcohol, then poured a few glasses and placed them on the dining table, ensuring Lockhart would see them immediately no matter where he was.
"Harry, that's George. He's Louise now," Fred suddenly said, pointing to a witch who had just entered. Harry looked over and, sure enough, Louise was as alluring as Fred had described.
"I'm going over there. You cover me," Harry said after a moment's thought.
"No, you go by yourself. I need to find Angelina. If I don't show up soon, she might leave," Fred refused.
At the Deathday Party, George was sashaying around. Many ghosts were secretly watching George from behind. I never thought being a beautiful woman would feel like this, George thought triumphantly.
Suddenly, George saw Harry walking towards him, and he immediately had the idea of playing a trick on Harry. "Handsome, you look so much like the legendary Boy Who Lived, just as dashing~" George said in a high-pitched voice.
Harry immediately gagged a few times. "Stop it, I know it's you, George."
"How boring! Fred actually told you so early! It seems our twin telepathy has disappeared," George said playfully.
"Stop! Don't make me hit you." Harry stopped George's erratic behavior, then pulled a shrunken steak from his pocket and handed it to George.
"Thank you~ handsome boy~" George giggled as he took it. He seemed to be getting addicted to playing a woman. "This isn't for you to eat. Lockhart hasn't eaten today, it seems. Take this; it'll make it easier to get his attention," Harry instructed. Seeing George still swaying his hips and about to say something, Harry quickly ran off. He was afraid if he stayed any longer, he really wouldn't be able to resist hitting George.
"Harry, why were you gone so long?" Hermione looked at Harry suspiciously.
"Stomach ache." Hermione immediately panicked and grabbed Harry, pulling him towards the exit.
"I'm not going to the hospital wing, I mean, I'm already fine," Harry explained. Hermione turned around, and Harry saw that her face was still filled with suspicion.
"Alright, but if I find out you... you're dead," Hermione said in a flat tone that sent shivers down Harry's spine.
Meanwhile, Lockhart had searched the dining table for a long time but found no edible food. Clearly, the big oaf Lockhart didn't know that the food at a ghost's Deathday Party was all 'peculiar' stuff, so he had no choice but to pick up a glass of clear liquor, hoping to fill his stomach by drinking. Lockhart took just one sip and felt something was wrong. He forced himself to swallow the burning liquid.
Damn this Deathday Party! The food is rotten, and even the drinks are high-proof? Don't these ghosts know a party should have Firewhisky? And where's that blasted Harry? Lockhart cursed inwardly. He finally remembered Harry, who had invited him to the party.
Just then, a pleasant voice sounded behind Lockhart. "I never thought there'd be someone else here who enjoys vodka," Louise (George) said.
Lockhart quickly turned around at the sound. What he saw nearly made his eyeballs pop out. A fiery woman stood behind him.
"So this drink is called vodka? If you like it, madam, then it's yours." Lockhart said, then prepared to leave. As an old hand at using Memory Charms to trick people, he subtly sensed something was amiss. A beauty appearing at a ghost's Deathday Party? Lockhart didn't believe it was a coincidence.
Louise (George) saw Lockhart about to leave and, in a moment of desperation, called out Lockhart's name. "Mr. Lockhart, don't go. Actually, I arranged this. I've read many of your books, which is why I found a way to sneak in. If you're willing... I have so much I want to tell you."
"Is that so? Which of my books do you like the most?" Lockhart asked suspiciously.
"Break with a Banshee," George said, thinking on his feet. "I think that book is your best."
"Thank you. I actually agree that Break with a Banshee is the best book I've written, because that banshee truly left me with such regret," Lockhart said, testing her, wanting to know if she had really read the book. Fortunately, Lockhart had talked a lot about the contents of his books in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, so Louise (George) easily continued the conversation.
"I must say, your story with the banshee was truly a pity. If that banshee hadn't fed on Muggles back then, perhaps you and she would have been together by now," Louise (George) said, then feigned wiping away a tear.
Lockhart confirmed that this woman was indeed a fan of his and immediately relaxed. After all, he had encountered many crazy fans over the years; some female fans had even divorced their husbands just to get an invitation to his afternoon tea, so Lockhart was long past being surprised. Moreover, ever since the attacks at Hogwarts, Lockhart hadn't had much of a nightlife.
Thinking of this, Lockhart couldn't help but swallow. After downing the vodka in his glass, he casually said, "Madam, I don't believe I know your name?"
"Just call me Louise. And I'm not a madam; I'm still single," Louise (George) said, batting her eyelashes.
"My apologies, madam. But you are so charming, I simply assumed you were already married," Lockhart said apologetically, his eyes subtly scanning Louise's chest.
"Oh, Mr. Lockhart, I love vodka. You know, very few men are willing to marry a woman who loves strong liquor." Louise (George) said, then picked up a glass of vodka and took a sip. That one sip nearly sent her to oblivion.
Cough! Cough! Cough!
Louise (George) coughed violently. Normally, Lockhart would have noticed something was amiss; how could a woman who claimed to love vodka cough after drinking it? But Lockhart, perhaps due to the few drinks he'd had, or perhaps Louise (George)'s fiery figure, felt nothing but a parched throat.
"Are you alright?" Lockhart said, taking the opportunity to place his hand on Louise's shoulder.
"No, no, I'm fine, I just haven't eaten, so—cough! cough cough cough!"
Louise (George) coughed for a good while before straightening up. Her exaggerated coughing caused her dress to slip down a little. Because they were still in a public place, Lockhart removed his hand from Louise's shoulder.
"Oh, look at my memory! I almost forgot about the steak!" Louise (George) pretended to be embarrassed as she pulled out the steak Harry had given her. "Perhaps you'd like to try my cooking?" Louise (George) said playfully.
"Of course, I'd be delighted to. To be honest, I know a very lovely place. Shall we go there?"
"Is that... alright? I mean, this is Hogwarts after all," Louise (George) said hesitantly. He was worried that agreeing too quickly would arouse Lockhart's suspicion.
Now Lockhart was certain that Louise had those kinds of intentions. He couldn't help but pick up another glass of vodka and take a sip. "It's fine. I am, after all, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. In fact, Dumbledore even invited me to be the Head of Ravenclaw House, but I declined," Lockhart boasted shamelessly.
Louise (George) couldn't help but laugh, quickly taking a sip of vodka to hide his smile. Lockhart didn't think much of it. Seeing that Louise hadn't refused, he took her hand and walked outside. He remembered there was a broom cupboard in the basement corridor.
"Don't call me Mr. Lockhart anymore, just call me Gilderoy."
"Alright, Gilderoy."
Louise (George) half-heartedly followed Lockhart out. Before leaving, he specifically glanced towards Fred.
...The Steak-Eating Interlude...
"...So that's how it was. My last boyfriend just left me like that," Louise (George) said, as if venting.
It just goes to show that only a man truly understands a man. In any case, Lockhart didn't suspect Louise had any ulterior motives. He gently comforted George while plying him with drinks.
After a few more sips of vodka, Louise (George) felt dizzy, as if he could barely walk straight. Lockhart saw the blush on Louise's face and knew the time was ripe. He opened the nearby broom cupboard and pushed Louise inside.
Lockhart eagerly kicked aside the obstructing brooms and pushed Louise onto the floor. Feeling a cold sensation, George instantly sobered up.
Blast it, Fred, why aren't you here yet?! Louise (George) cursed inwardly. To wear this dress, he hadn't brought his wand, and if Lockhart wanted to do something, he couldn't do anything to stop him.
"No, no, don't do this, I don't like it," Louise (George) struggled to say. But because of the alcohol, Louise (George)'s struggles looked more like playful resistance to Lockhart.
"Relax, just leave everything to me. I promise I'll take you to heaven."
Seeing that Fred still hadn't appeared, George couldn't help but try to save himself. "Let go of me! Let go of me!"
Lockhart looked at Louise, who was thrashing on the floor, and inwardly regretted giving her so much to drink, knowing she'd get rowdy when drunk. Habits kill, I should give less next time. Lockhart lamented while quickly discarding his robes.
"Don't worry, darling, I always carry a safety potion with me." Lockhart said, then conjured a rope with his wand to tie her down.
"No! Actually, I'm—" George screamed, trying to tell Lockhart the truth. However, Lockhart stuffed the skirt into Louise's mouth, silencing her. In Lockhart's eyes, this was just George having second thoughts and wanting to leave, but once the arrow is shot, there's no turning back. Besides, Lockhart was confident he could use a Memory Charm on her afterwards.
Fred, where are you? If you don't show up now, I'm really done for! George thought in despair.
Lockhart, with practiced ease, pressed down. Feeling something, George couldn't help but shed tears.
Bang!
Just at that critical moment, the broom cupboard door suddenly burst open.
read lots story at patre***
always update and finish
ilham20 only for 3$