Chapter 98: Luohate's Lesson

Over the next few days, Silven practically treated the library as his second common room; every day after class, he would sit punctually at the library's oak long table and not leave until curfew.

Previously he had always borrowed books back to the dormitory to read, but later Hermione told him that there was no limit on the number of books you could read in the library — as long as they fit on the table, you could borrow as many as you wanted.

"That's exactly what I do," she said. "Borrow ten books at once, then pick out the two I like best and take them back to read slowly."

Then Silven started going to the library often, and Hermione would sometimes come with him; Ron, like Harry, only came when he had homework to write.

But in recent days, Harry's visits to the library had also gradually increased, because this was one of the few safe zones where he wouldn't "happen to run into" Luohate.

Harry had to admit he still quite liked attending Defence Against the Dark Arts, especially the first class, when Luohate had left him with a very good impression.

But in the daily life afterwards, Luohate's exaggerated self-praise and posturing sent that good impression plummeting.

And for some unknown reason, Luohate always liked to pick on Harry, and every time would say strange things in front of many people, making him wish the ground would swallow him up.

Yesterday, right in front of Malfoy, he said Harry shouldn't be addicted to the taste of fame, going around handing out autographed photos.

"I don't want to make any front-page headlines!" This was already the umpteenth time Harry had complained. "And I don't want to hand out any autographed photos either — it's all Colin Creevey."

Incidentally, Colin Creevey was a first-year Gryffindor new student, Harry's fanatical admirer, and also the second person Harry least wanted to run into.

But Colin Creevey was even more persistent than Luohate — not only did he wait for Harry every day at places like the common room, the classroom corridors, and the entrance to the Great Hall, he also always wanted to take his photo.

This kind of enthusiasm made Harry's life a misery; more than once he thought, if only the person Colin worshipped was Luohate — the two of them would both be perfectly satisfied!

"Alright, stop grumbling," Silven said. "Otherwise you'll get kicked out of the library by Madam Pince too, and when that happens, you probably won't even have your one refuge left."

Harry quickly shut his mouth.

But he soon noticed that Silven had tidied up all his books and returned them, keeping only one.

"You're not reading anymore?"

"Class is about to start."

"Oh, right, today's only Friday." Harry scratched his hair; lately, because of Luohate and Colin, and Malfoy's mockery, he had become increasingly irritable.

The two walked out of the library.

"What class is it today?" Harry asked.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," Silven said. "Convenient — no need to change floors."

They crossed two corridors; they only needed to walk past the corner ahead to reach Luohate's large classroom.

But just then, Harry's body suddenly tensed, and he said instinctively, "Here it comes."

"What…"

Before Silven could even speak, he saw a spry figure suddenly leap out from the other end of the corridor, waving excitedly.

"How are you, Harry?"

"Hello, Colin." Harry sighed helplessly.

Then the other boy ran off cheerfully.

"It's like this every time," Harry sighed. "Colin seems to have memorised my timetable — I run into him in practically every class."

This…

Silven patted his shoulder sympathetically. "No one can help with this one — you'll just have to get used to it."

"That'll probably be hard." Harry looked a bit irritated. "And Luohate — I really don't want to run into either of them right now, because every time they pull me aside to say strange things, Malfoy appears nearby like a ghost and then spreads those words around with embellishments.

"Do you know how Hagrid looks at me now?"

Silven shook his head; he had been in the library lately and hadn't visited Hagrid in a long time.

"Hagrid thinks I'm selling autographed photos in the castle, and that I've even set up a Harry Potter Admirers Club — he even complained that I didn't invite him."

When it came to the name "Harry Potter Admirers Club," Harry's face instantly flushed bright red, but he still forced himself to say it.

"I bet Hagrid was mostly just joking with you," Silven tried hard not to laugh. "He knows you're not the vain type."

"I know," Harry said. "I just didn't expect even Hagrid to have heard — this is all Malfoy's doing!"

"Let me give you a piece of advice," Silven said. "Next time Malfoy mocks you, give him a good thrashing — I guarantee you'll have a lot fewer troubles like this."

"No, that would cost us points." Harry's shoulders slumped, a little deflated.

"Just points — it's not like we haven't lost them before." Silven laughed. "Besides, could Professor McGonagall really dock us another two hundred points?"

They had lost two hundred points in their first year, but had still gone on to win the House Cup.

"No, still no." Harry thought about it, then shook his head again. "What if Professor McGonagall gets so angry she disqualifies Gryffindor from Quidditch — Oliver would kill me."

"About that…" Silven laughed and said, "Last time it was because there were too many people, that's why Professor McGonagall got so angry. As long as you keep the numbers down, and don't use wands, you don't have to worry about being disqualified."

In Hogwarts, the worst offence was magical conflict, but if you didn't use wands and it was just a plain old fistfight, it really didn't count as anything serious — even if someone got hurt, sending them to the school hospital was just a matter of a roll of bandages and a bit of dittany.

It's just that Harry had grown up in Muggle society and hadn't yet realised this.

"Time for class," Silven continued walking forward, and Harry hurried to catch up.

When the two walked into the classroom, Luohate followed right behind them into the room; he had designed yet another way to wear a wizard's hat, slanted to one side over his fluffy blond hair.

"Good afternoon, class." As if rehearsed, Luohate himself, along with the portraits of him surrounding them, spoke at the same time — a grand, imposing sight.

He seemed to come up with some new trick for every class.

"Good afternoon, Professor Luohate." Hermione's face was already starting to turn red.

"I'm very well, thank you for your concern." He winked, flashing a playful smile.

"Alright, let's begin the lesson." He walked to the podium and gave a slight bow. "First, please allow me to apologise to you — I only just learned now that, because the course content differs, you have actually had such a serious conflict with Slytherin."

A conflict with Slytherin?

Silven didn't catch on at first; only afterwards did he realise that had all happened last week — even Oliver Wood had gradually accepted the punishment of being unable to use the Quidditch pitch — and Luohate was only just finding out now?

"Then, Professor, why is the course content different?" someone asked.

"That brings me to my experience at Durmstrang, helping them deal with their pixies." Luohate gave a slight smile. "To thank me for helping them solve a big problem, the headmaster of Durmstrang repeatedly invited me to stay and teach… don't worry, I refused every time, because at that point I had just promised Albus I would return to Hogwarts to help him out."

A few students dutifully burst into applause.

"Although I refused, so as not to disappoint those children, I also shared some of my experience with the teachers over there…"

Lockhart suddenly switched to a vexed tone. "That's right, just as you all guessed — it's the content Slytherins learn in class — I was greedy, wanting to teach all of it to you, but I never expected such serious consequences. It's all my fault."

"So I've decided that from now on, classes will be fair and equal for everyone."

More applause broke out. Silven half suspected Lockhart had paid people to clap.

At the same time, Silven got to witness the "treasure" he had left behind for Durmstrang — the stage play.

He had copied the contents of *Wanderings with Werewolves* straight into the classroom.

Harry was to play the werewolf. (I knew it would be like this.) Harry stood up reluctantly.

"Next… Young Lady Granger, would you be willing to step in and play my role?" What Silven hadn't expected was that Lockhart had no intention of defeating the Boy Who Lived himself — he handed the chance to Hermione.

Hermione of course couldn't refuse. Under gaze after gaze sharp as blades, she walked up resolutely, not even bringing her book.

She could already recite *Wanderings with Werewolves* in full from memory.

Then, with Lockhart serving as narrator, he vividly described the scene at the time, while Hermione and Harry performed behind him.

But Silven knew why he'd arranged it this way.

Because where Hermione stood was completely blocked by Lockhart, the narrator positioned in front of her — from below, all you could see was a single wand.

As for Harry, he had no cover at all, vividly embodying a defeated werewolf… which amounted to nothing but a thorough beating.

Because Lockhart, demanding authenticity, insisted Hermione use real spells. (Of course I know you won't know the Human form spell, but that's fine — you must at least know Scourgify.)

And so Harry got "Scourgified" for an entire class. By the time it ended, Silven felt the boy was practically glowing.

"I swear, I really don't want to learn Slytherin class content." Harry let out a long, mournful sigh.

"Then you might be disappointed — this class went rather well," Silven said.

Lockhart seemed to have a talent for performance too. His narration was vivid and expressive, and though his gestures were a bit exaggerated, the addition of Hermione's "real magic" pushed the visual effect to the max.

Hermione, of all people, played along beautifully, alternating between Scourgify and the Warming Charm, greatly enriching Lockhart's performance with variety.

So every time a spell exploded on Harry the "werewolf," the students below would burst into cries of amazement.

Hearing Silven say that, Harry's whole face fell.

"Really?" He looked hopefully at Ron, who had just run over.

Ron hesitated, then finally nodded. After all, even he had been drawn in for a while, and Seamus Finnigan was standing nearby saying, "This is just like watching a movie."

Ron didn't know what a "movie" was, but he knew Seamus seemed quite satisfied.

Harry's heart sank. He had a vague feeling that if this kind of class was so popular, Lockhart would definitely keep it going.

When the time came, he'd probably have to play all the monsters in his books himself.

"Why can't we keep going back to the old lessons!" Harry couldn't help asking. "I wouldn't mind spending a whole year catching Cornish pixies."

"I heard the Slytherins caused trouble last class," Ron said. "When they were catching pixies, they deliberately aimed their spells at other students and caused quite a mess. I heard someone was even sent to the hospital wing."

"Professor McGonagall was furious, so she told Lockhart he couldn't keep doing it that way."

"Is that so?" Silven said, surprised. "How do you know that?"

"Not me — Fred and George," Ron explained. "When they went to see Professor McGonagall a few days ago, they happened to overhear her conversation with Lockhart. I wanted to tell you, but you were both stuck in the library."

As he said this, Ron gave Harry a long, mournful look, as if accusing him of betrayal.

Harry sheepishly turned his head away. He hadn't meant to abandon Ron — it was just that only in the library could he get a moment of peace.

Only now did Silven understand. No wonder Lockhart had suddenly brought up something from a week ago and changed his teaching method — he'd simply overreached.

Thinking about it, it made sense. There was no way those Slytherins would obediently go catch pixies. But Silven was curious — how had Lockhart handled that chaotic scene?

That said, Lockhart's transformation was quite successful. His new class was still the same con — all talk, no action — but apart from Harry, nobody seemed to have any major objections.

Ron didn't know what to say to comfort Harry, so he could only step forward and pat Harry's shoulder. "At least… uh, Hermione's magic won't really hurt you."

Harry no longer knew what to say.

What crushed him even more was that, just as the three of them had walked out of the classroom, a familiar figure came running over fast, waving vigorously from a good distance away:

"Harry, how are you?"

"Oh, here he comes again — run!" Harry felt his scalp prickle. He grabbed Silven's arm tightly and dragged him downstairs.

"Harry, where are you going?" Ron called from behind.

"I need to ask Madam Pince if I can temporarily live in the library for the next few days."

……

(End of chapter)