"Pop——"
"..."
"...You've been swindled by Lockhart too?"
Under Scrimgeour's silent gaze, Tonks reluctantly spat out her bubblegum, but after a moment, she couldn't help but look at William and ask.
"This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks are seven, and each costs five Galleons."
William chuckled, "Do you want them? I can sell you a set for a bit cheaper."
"Uh, well, it's okay, honestly, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors in our years were even more unreliable..."
The woman quickly shook her head to refuse but then whispered.
"Tonks——"
"Present!"
"Ahem, alright, Rufus is right, now that we're all here, we should get going——"
Dumbledore stood up from behind the table and quickly walked over to the group—William could tell he didn't actually want to move so fast, but it seemed he also didn't want Tonks to finish her unsaid sentence.
William couldn't help but twitch his mouth, stop hiding, Dumbledore, everyone knows you're not clear-sighted— even Hagrid, that big oaf, doesn't quite trust you now.
Standing next to William, the old Armenian Wizard, Andre, followed the three Aurors' footsteps downward in silence. There weren't many little wizards in the castle at this time, and soon they arrived at a wooden door—
"This is the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, assuming it hasn't changed locations in the past two years."
The guide, Tonks, placed her hand on the wooden door in front of her, then turned her head to look at Scrimgeour.
"Open the door."
The man nodded and exchanged a glance with Kingsley. The two of them drew their magic wands simultaneously.
"...Why are they so tense?"
Standing at the back of the group, William crossed his arms, watching the three of them as if facing a formidable enemy, somewhat puzzled, "Do they not know that guy is just an idiot?"
Andre's magic is profound, and this means Lockhart is extremely skilled in Memory Magic—recovering memory is no simple task, and no one wants to lose a part of it for nothing.
Dumbledore, too, lowered his voice, arms crossed, with his long beard cradled in his palms.
"By the way, I heard you're considering making Hagrid a professor?"
"...It's something I've considered."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"..."
Being asked so directly, even Dumbledore couldn't help but twitch his mouth, and just when the two were whispering quietly, Tonks opened the big door in front of her. The two top Aurors behind her quickly rolled and rushed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. It was Sunday, and the empty classroom seemed exceptionally deserted.
The three of them weren't discouraged even after searching the void for a moment. They slowly walked through the classroom, quietly reaching the staircase and stopped before the office door. Scrimgeour raised his hand, three, two—
"You guys are such damn slowpokes..."
William stepped forward two paces and kicked open the tightly closed door, revealing Lockhart, who was wearing deep pink pajamas. He looked bewildered, and before he could react, the bed sheet behind him jumped up and turned into a rope, directly tying him up in a standard tortoise shell bondage, immobilizing him completely.
"How did you—"
Scrimgeour came rushing up the stairs behind William, full of rage, and pointed his wand at the man lying on the floor who seemed to still be in disbelief, his expression a bit stiff, "What's this ...?"
"What? Don't like the way he's tied up? Should I make it into a bow for you?"
William stepped forward two steps, stepping on the rope behind Lockhart, pulling the tortoise shell bondage even tighter.
At this time, the others were also coming up the stairs, and Lockhart's brain finally rebooted from its crash. He stared at Tonks and Kingsley, who were right behind Scrimgeour, and his voice was anything but calm, "Who are you people? This is breaking and entering, and the worst part is you'll be sent to Azkaban—"
"Wake up, you'll soon be playing French kiss with Dementors."
William stepped on his head in annoyance—open the drawer behind him, just to see if he can find his thirty-five Golden Galleons, but inside there were only piles of pink stationery, many of which were adorned with nauseating hearts.
"You, you, you guys—this is Hogwarts, mistreating a Hogwarts professor like this, Dumbledore won't... uh, hi, how do you do?"
Lockhart had a bewildered expression, staring at the old man coming through the door, before locking eyes with another figure following behind him. With just one look, his eyes never left them.
"Is, is it you?"
Lockhart's voice trembled. He stared at the old man in front of him, lacking confidence in his tone, gazing into the old man's eyes. With just two exchanges of glances, he entirely guessed that the old man had recovered his memory, and looking at the surrounding people who all appeared to be Aurors, he roughly understood his situation...
Is it just that I have to sit here and wait to die?
The man's expression appeared tormented, he silently lowered his head, no longer speaking, refusing even to look at the Armenian old wizard.
It was at this moment that William bent down, "Too bad, Mr. Lockhart, casting a Forgetfulness Spell on people is a ticket to Azkaban, if things are serious enough... it might be life imprisonment?" His voice was soft,
just like last time.
"..."
Lockhart's concealed magic power collapsed suddenly. In panic, he instinctively raised his head. The entirely blurred memories resurfaced in his mind, and this time, the face hidden in shadows finally revealed its true visage——
"Is, is it you?"
The man's expression was one of uncontrollable shock, even more exaggerated than when he saw Andre clearly just moments ago. He instinctively wanted to struggle, but his body was too stiff to accomplish even the simplest everyday movements.
"Shh, be good."
William softly rubbed Lockhart's head, smiling, "If I hear any nonsense about things that shouldn't be talked about, then, it might not just be Dementors sharing Azkaban with you——"
"Ugh!"
Tears streamed down from the man's eyes. More than anything, he wished he hadn't done those heinous things—but such is reality, with events that have happened, regretting is pointless.
After nodding repeatedly in agreement, Lockhart was finally pulled up from the floor by Scrimgeour. This man, who always smiled with eight visible teeth, now had drool at the corner of his mouth, his messy blonde hair covered with dust, and his show-off gold-rimmed glasses broken in two——
"...Really wish I could take a photo."
Following behind Kingsley, Tonks looked at the extremely disheveled Lockhart, her mouth pouting slightly.