Chapter 131: Lockhart on the Second Floor

Honestly, Lockhart always managed to bring everyone a different kind of surprise, and even now was no exception.

Silven never imagined that one day he would get to see a pink Great Hall.

The four walls were covered with big, big pink flowers; the ceiling, which had originally been enchanted to reflect the sky directly, had also been painted blue, and every time someone walked beneath it, multicoloured heart-shaped confetti would drift down.

Lockhart, dressed in a matching pink robe, announced loudly that this was the Valentine's Day surprise he had prepared for everyone.

"Because my absence has forced all of you to sit through so many boring Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, to make up for it I took it upon myself to prepare this surprise for everyone… Of course, since it's a surprise, there's certainly more to come."

As his words fell, twelve grim-faced dwarfs walked into the Hall from the other side, and Lockhart announced that they would be delivering Valentine's Day cards around the school.

He added that if anyone wanted to say something but was too shy, they could go to the dwarfs as well.

"I will absolutely NOT say a single word to those dwarfs!" Harry said, enunciating every syllable. From the moment Lockhart had stood up, he had been stabbing his steak, and by now had successfully reduced it to a plate of minced beef.

"Maybe someone will send you a card," Silven said, brushing the heart-shaped confetti off his plate, then serving himself another piece of steak and eating it with great relish.

"That's your third piece, isn't it?" Hermione shifted her gaze from Lockhart and looked at Silven. "Is the steak that good today?"

Saying so, she also cut herself a piece and put it in her mouth.

Nothing special, about the same as usual.

"It's all right," Silven said.

"Then why have you eaten so much today?" Hermione asked curiously. "I noticed this morning — you ate five sausages."

"Because the full moon is coming again," Silven said, a note of weary resignation in his voice.

The full moon meant he would once again have to hold a Mandrake in his mouth and begin another stretch of poor eating and poor sleeping.

While there was still time, he definitely had to eat a bit more.

Silven cut himself another piece of fried pork chop and forced himself to take a bite.

"What does the full moon have to do with you? Only werewolves are afraid of the full moon," Ron said. He looked at Silven, and a look of horror gradually crept over his face. "You — you're not a werewolf, are you…"

"If I were a werewolf, on the night of the full moon I'd definitely visit your dormitory first," Silven said without looking up. "Remember not to lock the door when the time comes."

"Clatter…" Neville's cutlery dropped onto his plate with a crisp sound.

"Neville, Silven is joking," Hermione said, shooting a glare at Ron, who was laughing uproariously.

"Of course it's a joke," Ron said. "Besides, how could Headmaster Dumbledore allow a werewolf to stay at the school?"

"Sorry, I — I didn't mean it like that…" Neville's face went bright red. Of course he knew Silven was a normal wizard; he just hadn't reacted in time.

Silven paid it no mind at all, simply continuing to eat his fried pork chop.

Hermione watched him thoughtfully from across the table.

So besides werewolves, what else had to do with the full moon?

She was just thinking about this when her train of thought was interrupted by a burst of affected laughter.

Lockhart had just told a joke, saying Professor Flitwick was more skilled at disarming magic than anyone, and had "affectionately" called him that sly old dog.

However, apart from Lockhart himself, no one found it funny, and Professor Flitwick buried his face in both hands, not daring to look up.

He was probably regretting using the wrong spell on Lockhart at the Dueling Club last time — he should have hit him with Avada Kedavra straight away.

And more and more people were starting to think the same way.

All day long, the dwarfs kept popping into every classroom, delivering Valentine's Day cards, annoying the professors to no end.

Then they received cards too.

Even at lunchtime, a dwarf had walked straight up to Dumbledore and, in a hoarse voice, sung at the top of his lungs:

The wise and charming Headmaster of Hogwarts,

His eyes are like the stars in the sky,

His beard is like a unicorn's bottom,

Praise to you, my beloved Dumbledore.

At first Dumbledore didn't think anything of it, and even smiled and thanked the dwarf, saying he hadn't expected to be so popular.

But what he hadn't expected even more was that more and more dwarfs kept coming, and the songs they sang grew increasingly improper — some of the lines made even him blush.

The hundred-something-year-old headmaster soon surrendered; he didn't even finish his favourite egg custard tart before hurrying out of the Hall and hiding back in his office.

The stone gargoyle guarded the entrance there, and the dwarfs couldn't get in.

Apart from Dumbledore, the other professors had also been harassed to varying degrees, though they each had their own ways of dealing with it.

Snape's was the most effective.

When the first dwarf sang in the underground classroom, "His hair is so greasy even a fox could slip on it," Snape erupted with astonishing hand speed — he scooped up a ladle of the unknown liquid in Neville's cauldron and poured it straight into the dwarf's mouth.

Neville's cauldron — honestly, no one had the faintest idea what was in it or what it did.

But the effect was immediate: the dwarf instantly fell silent, his body turned ash-grey in the blink of an eye, and purple bubbles began to bubble out of his mouth.

After that, the area around Snape immediately went quiet, and no dwarf dared to go near the underground classroom again.

This pleased Snape greatly; he thought Dumbledore was simply too easy-going. Everyone knew he was a decent man who wouldn't lose his temper easily, but sometimes one still had to be a little forceful.

However, although no more dwarfs came to harass him, Snape was also thoroughly disgusted by that line of lyrics, so much so that he didn't even want to eat dinner.

That evening, most of the professors didn't show up.

Silven had just taken two bites of stew when he suddenly stood up.

The movement startled Harry, who instinctively looked around, and only relaxed after confirming there were none of those winged dwarfs about.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm full," Silven said, folding up an old piece of parchment and tucking it into his pocket.

"But you only just sat down," Harry said, glancing again at the stew Silven had barely taken a bite of.

"Maybe I ate a bit too much at lunch," Silven said, rising from his seat. "You guys go on. I just remembered — I was supposed to return a book to the library today."

Before the words had finished leaving his mouth, Silven had already dashed out of the Hall, run to the marble staircase, and arrived on the second floor.

Because it was dinnertime, the second floor was mostly empty, with only a few dwarfs carrying wings and harps standing sparsely outside the library entrance.

They were all heading to the library to deliver Valentine's cards, but had been chased out by Madam Pince and could only wait outside.

Silven paid them no mind, turned, and ran down another corridor; after passing through two corridors, he suddenly stopped.

He looked at the person hurrying toward him and said, "Good evening, Professor Lockhart. I really didn't expect to run into you here."

"Same here, Mr. Ollivander," Lockhart said, glancing instinctively at a tightly shut door beside them.

Silven glanced at it too. "Professor, if I remember correctly, this is the girls' lavatory, isn't it? And there's a troublesome ghost living inside — no one's used it in a long time."

"Is that so?" Lockhart nodded, as if he didn't care at all. "Perhaps I could help her. When I was in Transylvania, I helped the ghosts there sort out their troubles."

"So, Professor, you also know there's a girl's ghost inside?" Silven raised an eyebrow.

"Of course," Lockhart said. "Isn't this the girls' lavatory?"

"But I also said no one's used it in a long time," Silven said with a smile. "Maybe it's precisely because there's a male ghost inside that no one goes in."

"Is that so?" Lockhart's expression finally shifted a little.

"I was joking, Professor," Silven said, laughing. "The ghost inside is called Moaning Myrtle."

"Ah, of course I know that — she was already here when I was a student," Lockhart said. "Still, I think the most important thing now is to get to the Great Hall quickly. Hopefully we can still get dinner."

"Definitely no problem, Professor." Silven stepped aside to let Lockhart pass.

"Mr. Ollivander, aren't you coming?" Lockhalt stopped and asked. "Come on, we can go together."

"I've already eaten," Silven said. "I need to get back to the dormitory now — there's a book I have to return today."

Perhaps it was an illusion, but when Lockhart heard that Silven had only passed by here on his way back to the dormitory, the smile on his face seemed to grow a touch more natural.

"Good luck," he said. "Madam Pince is not someone to be trifled with."

"I think so too."

The two parted ways at the corner.

Silven stood in the corridor and, only after seeing Lockhart appear in the entrance hall downstairs, walked over to the door of Myrtle's lavatory and took a look.

A moment ago, he had spotted Lockhart appearing here on the Marauder's Map, which was why he'd hurried over. He must have run too fast and been heard by Lockhart, which was how the two of them had bumped into each other at the corner.

But it didn't matter — Silven had the Marauder's Map, and he knew exactly where Lockhart was.

On the lavatory door, the traces of the magic Dumbledore had placed were still there; he just didn't know why, but they looked a little different from before.

Previously, to prevent students from wandering in by accident, Dumbledore had deliberately sealed this door with magic and reinforced it — not only could it not be pushed open from the outside, it couldn't be opened from the inside either. Only Myrtle, being a ghost, could come and go freely.

Dumbledore had also instructed that, should anything unusual happen in the lavatory, he was to be notified at once.

The traces of magic on the door were still there now; only their positions seemed to have risen a little. He seemed to remember that one of the symbols used to be below the door handle, but now it was in the middle — roughly half an inch off.

Silven wasn't sure whether he was misremembering. He tried pushing the door — thankfully, it still didn't budge an inch.

……

(End of chapter)