So, the Lockhart stan covered his face and fled the battlefield, leaving only a lively atmosphere over the Hufflepuff Long Table.
At Hogwarts, the news of Professor Lockhart's arrest spread rapidly among the students, nearly everyone in the hall was holding a copy of the Prophet Daily, and most were venting their dissatisfaction with Lockhart. After all, attending Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts Class was a torment for many—
This once led to Snape's reputation improving when he took over the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class; however, it was soon pulled back by the old bat's "crazy" act of setting three essays a week.
It even got worse.
But honestly, many didn't expect Snape's reputation to have room to fall further.
Yet only a portion of the students are against Lockhart; there remains a rare minority group, mostly girls, gathered on the outskirts of the hall, looking at the crowd passionately speaking inside with an expression that seemed detached from the world—
"The Professor is definitely being wronged. I've already contacted Emily Perkins—she's the leader of the backup group. Once the holidays start, we'll join forces to write to the Ministry of Magic. Strength in numbers; I don't believe the Ministry of Magic dares to keep him!"
"Exactly, Azkaban is so harsh, I wonder if Gilderoy can even get enough food…"
"... Most importantly, our brother only has us now."
As soon as this was said, the Lockhart support group erupted in cries of lament.
…
These distracting cries continued until a line of professors appeared and seated themselves at the staff table. Looking at the sole empty chair, the girls' grief reached its peak—
"... Who died?"
It seemed Cedric heard the mourner and raised his head from his pineapple pie, somewhat bewilderedly glancing around.
"No worries, it's good news."
Bored William reached for a piece of bread, beginning to spread cement… no, jam on it.
Then, Dumbledore stood behind the golden owl on the podium; his cough interrupted the crying crowd, and everyone still standing scattered back to their house tables. Seeing the chaos settle, Dumbledore lowered his eyes contentedly, "Another year has passed!" His voice remained cheerful.
Red and gold ribbons and garlands hung from the ceiling, the golden lion representing Gryffindor standing proudly, much like those Gryffindor students straining to puff out their chests.
The little lions looked flamboyantly towards the Slytherin Long Table not far away, the hall's decor reflecting their faces with a rosy hue.
"… I heard Harry Potter inexplicably won some points earlier?"
Marcus Flint rasped; he still remembered the house hourglass he had just seen at the hall's entrance, the quantity of deep green gems in Slytherin's hourglass seeming only a smidge less than Gryffindor's—
This time, the scores of the four houses were closely contested, and Dumbledore's announcement confirmed that Gryffindor was merely five points ahead of Slytherin.
"Ha, who knows if those points were properly earned…"
Draco Malfoy poked at the pie on his plate, looking indifferent, but the bulging vein on his right hand showed his mood wasn't so good—thanks to an unnamed head's help, Gryffindor still managed to win the House Cup, which was simply… unbelievable.
Bear in mind that before last year, Slytherin had won the House Cup six years running—last year, if not for Dumbledore adding over a hundred points to Gryffindor…
Their dear head would definitely find a way to deduct those points back.
But somehow this year, in the last few months, Snape had been uncharacteristically irritable and angry, not only failing to deduct Gryffindor's points but even sometimes deducting Slytherin's points—the house internally said he had gone mad.
Facing yet another loss of the House Cup, Draco felt a pang of heartache, starting to call out internally, "If only I could stop those fools from being so arrogant, I'd do anything—"
"… But this year, there's an additional special bonus point allocation."
Dumbledore's voice drew everyone's attention, Gryffindor Long Table's members appeared bewildered, contrary to the joyous expressions of the Slytherins.
... Doesn't this feel familiar?
They vaguely recalled last year, Gryffindor had also managed a comeback through "special bonus points".
"I suppose you all have noticed, Gilderoy Lockhart… the Professor, due to allegations of extortion, unauthorized use of memory charms, selling illegal goods and numerous other charges, was taken by the Ministry of Magic a few days ago—" Dumbledore pressed his lips, the expression rare in its seriousness.
Everyone evidently didn't expect Dumbledore to bring this up now, reactions varied, the dispersing Lockhart stans became infuriated, sprang to their feet shouting things like "this isn't true" and "my brother is absolutely framed", but the only response they received was unrestrained laughter from the others.
Yet amidst the noise, they still didn't understand why Dumbledore brought this up, even Professor McGonagall behind him stared at him puzzled.
"In this arrest operation, a student provided great assistance—" Dumbledore paused, "It seems I shouldn't reveal his identity; thus, Hufflepuff, fifteen points."
The old man's blue eyes swept over the students who had stood up, although this group quickly sat again, they still stared at the Hufflepuff Long Table, seeming to want to find the culprit responsible for sending their brother to prison.
Only, in their search, they simultaneously parted their lips, then silently withdrew their gaze.
"..."
Feeling the attention from nearly the whole hall, William's mouth twitched.
Although the result was indeed correct, couldn't you at least go through the guessing process?
As soon as Dumbledore's words fell, the hall's color scheme instantly changed, yellow and black ribbons floated in the air, a spirited little badger replaced the concealed lion on the wall, and deafening applause and cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff Long Table.
William raised his head, looked at the smiling Dumbledore, fell silent for a moment, lowered his head, and kicked the suitcase beside him under the table.
Can't see me, can't see me…
"... Feels so familiar."
At Gryffindor Long Table, Harry mumbled around the spoon in his mouth.
"Hmph… Who knows where those points came from…"
Not far away, a Gryffindor Lockhart stan loudly "murmured."
"Hey, did you have a bird feather stuffed in your ear just now? It's already been said, putting Lockhart the big jerk in Azkaban, maybe by now he's already getting cozy with a Dementor?"
Upon hearing the commotion, Fred loudly retorted.
"You—"
The girl shouted fiercely, slapped the table and stood, and the apple pie in her hand flew straight toward Fred—hitting George instead.
"?"
"You mustn't speak ill of my bro…"
Before she could finish, two Dungbombs simultaneously flew her way—