"I seem to be here..."
"...Ginny?"
Looking at the now empty sofa beside him, Harry blinked blankly... How long had he been spacing out?
The previously lost memories returned at that moment; it seemed that Ginny had already said goodbye to him and returned to her dormitory alone some time ago, but he hadn't reacted at all.
This truly is... The boy patted his seemingly sluggish head and opened his backpack on the table—
"Meow."
The sudden cry interrupted the boy's movement. Mrs. Loris raised her head and stared at the boy, her long tail swaying in the air.
"I... I should, I should go back to sleep now." Harry stood there silently for a moment, then grabbed his backpack and headed to the dormitory.
...
Things seemed to be just as William said; faint sunlight passed through the castle filled with chicken feathers, illuminating Hogwarts in the morning light. And since Moaning Myrtle was attacked (most people didn't even know she was attacked, as she was not well-liked), no more attacks had occurred.
Smiles returned to everyone's faces, and Professor Sprout happily reported during one dinner that the Mandrakes had become capricious and taciturn, indicating they were quickly leaving childhood.
Has the heir of the Secret Chamber truly been sorted out?
It had been over a month since Harry and Hermione snuck into the Hufflepuff Common Room. When they told the Weasley Twins they "lost" the Marauder's Map, though they did get scolded a bit, nothing more was said afterward.
"It's okay; it has taught us enough—" Fred said generously, patting Harry's shoulder a few minutes later.
Time passed quickly, and soon it was February 14th. During breakfast, everyone finally understood what Gilderoy Lockhart meant when he confidently said yesterday, "I believe everyone needs to move away from that awful smell of chicken poop."
Lockhart's mood had been quite poor lately, which was obvious to everyone. Apart from classes and meals, he rarely left his office. As Lockhart himself explained, he simply couldn't stand those roosters flying through the corridors "dropping bombs", and even a hint of the smell would cause him to "die".
"This was a completely misguided decision. Chicken feathers and poop everywhere can't stop a real criminal. Perhaps we should get these damned chickens out of Hogwarts so I can focus on catching that terrorist. With my skills, it's only a matter of time—"
Unfortunately, no matter how much Lockhart protested, nobody cared about his thoughts.
And today, he seemed to finally find a chance to "shine".
The walls were covered with bright pink flowers, reflecting light. Ribbons adorned the tails of the flowers, and worse, countless heart-shaped confetti kept falling from the light blue ceiling, landing in nearly every porridge bowl.
"Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!" Lockhart said loudly. "So far, thirty-two people have sent me cards, and I thank them! Yes, I've arranged this little surprise for you all—and there's more!"
Lockhart clapped his hands, and twelve gloomy-looking little elves walked in through the doors leading to the hall. Different from regular elves, Lockhart had them all wear golden wings, carry harps, and their faces were covered with multicolored glitter.
"..."
Resisting the urge to walk to the teachers' table and smack his wasted bowl of porridge in Lockhart's face, William stood up.
"Where are you going?"
Cedric instinctively raised his head, continuously jotting and drawing on a piece of paper.
"You're going to write a letter to Cho Chang?" William raised his eyebrows in disbelief, "Using Lockhart's elves?"
"Yes, it sounds quite romantic..." Cedric asked perplexedly, "Why?"
"Nothing, I wish you happiness, my friend." William shook his head with a sympathetic look, then added, "Tonight's practical duel is cancelled."
"Really?"
Cedric asked with delight, clearly unaware he'd face something scarier than a practical duel tonight.
"...Of course."
William patted the boy's shoulder and silently mourned for him.
...
This farce lasted the entire day. By noon, the frequency of the "little elves" sightings had finally decreased, much to Lockhart's displeasure. He claimed the elves were negligent, arriving late and leaving early, even wanting to refuse to pay their appearance fees—
But the elves disagreed, claiming their members had gone missing in the castle and Lockhart was mainly responsible.
Both sides argued heatedly in the hall, and one angry little elf even pulled out a large chunk of Lockhart's hair. All the professors sat quietly watching this spectacle, even Dumbledore simply smiled observing both sides' antics during the dispute.
As for why the elves had decreased, William said he really had no idea.
"Hey, you! Harry Potter!"
Finally, after lunch, in the hallway leading to the foyer, a particularly grim little elf stopped Harry Potter, who was about to head to class, using his elbow to block others and intercepted Harry just before he could escape.
"No—" Harry despondently held his head.
"I have a musical message to deliver personally to Harry Potter." The elf said, striking the harp with an aggressive stance.
"Not here—" Harry turned, ready to flee.
"Stand still!" The elf muttered, grabbing the boy's backpack and pulling him back.
"Let me go!" Harry shouted, tugging at his backpack.
With a loud ripping sound, the boy's backpack split in half, scattering his books, magic wand, parchment, and quills all over the floor, the ink bottle breaking on top, spilling bright red ink everywhere.
"Hey, don't block the way—" Draco Malfoy emerged from the hall, saw the disheveled Harry Potter, and his eyes gleamed slightly, "Oh, who's this, is it someone confessing to our dear Scarhead..."
"Don't block the way." Before the boy finished speaking, someone kicked the blocking Malfoy aside.
"Who's that? Who dares to kick me, I'm going to tell my dad..." Before Malfoy finished speaking, he saw William standing behind him, looking down at him expressionlessly.
Malfoy instantly remembered his father's advice and instinctively retreated to the wall, trying hard to minimize his presence.
"Oh, his eyes are so green..."
The elf had barely finished reciting the first line of poetry before William directly transported it to the center of the Black Lake.
"Are you okay?"
William squatted down, helping Harry pick up the scattered books.
"Thanks—"
Harry, barely avoiding social embarrassment, finally breathed a sigh of relief. He reached out for the books William handed him, but his hand sorting the books was pressed down.
"...Where did this come from?"
William squinted, pulling out a black notebook from the pile of books in the boy's hand.