Chapter 295: Guesses

Gilderoy Lockhart grew more surprised, and more intrigued.

He picked up the Witch Weekly beside him and flipped through it; his own handsome face on the cover had vanished, replaced by a mysterious silhouette.

His face wore an expression of envy and anticipation—he had thought becoming Harry Potter’s teacher would be enough to make him famous, but now he might even be featured on a Chocolate Frog card.

After finding that young wizard, what name would they give him:

Wise Master?

A sly smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

Professor McGonagall watched this scene coldly; only after leaving her seat did she approach Dumbledore.

“Albus, why must we hire Lockhart to teach? What can students possibly learn from such a vain, fame-seeking man?”

Minerva McGonagall was deeply troubled.

“Even from a bad teacher, students can learn much—for instance, what not to do, and who not to become.”

Albus Dumbledore wore a profound smile, his gaze lingering briefly on Lockhart.

What transpired at the head table had no effect on the young wizards.

Everyone still looked forward to the upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Except Harry.

A very thin, gray-haired boy was staring at him as if entranced; in his hand he clutched something that looked like an ordinary Muggle camera.

The moment Harry looked at him, the boy’s face turned bright red.

“Hello, Harry? I—I’m Colin Creevey.”

He said breathlessly, taking one timid step forward,

“I’m in Gryffindor too. Do you think—could you—maybe let me take your picture?”

He raised the camera with hopeful eyes.

“A picture?”

Harry asked blankly.

“That way I can prove I met you.”

Colin said eagerly, taking a few more steps forward,

“I know everything about you. Everyone’s told me—how you survived the Dark Lord’s attack, how he vanished, how you still have a lightning-shaped scar on your forehead.”

Colin took a deep breath, trembling with excitement,

“This place is amazing, isn’t it? Before I got my letter from Hogwarts, I didn’t know the strange things I did were magic. My dad delivers milk—he couldn’t believe it. So I’m going to take tons of photos and send them to him. If I could get one of you—”

He looked at Harry with pleading eyes,

“—could I stand next to you and ask your friend to press the button? And could you sign it?”

He turned the camera toward Xiang Xiang Xien with the same pleading gaze.

“Could you help take a picture?”

Xiang Xiang Xien, about to leave, did not refuse; he waved his wand and the camera floated up.

Colin quickly moved closer to Harry.

“Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?”

Draco Malfoy’s loud, sharp voice echoed through the courtyard.

He stopped behind Colin, flanked by his two bulky, menacing friends: Crabbe and Goyle.

“Don’t make me laugh, Potter—the whole wizarding world is waiting for another photo, and you fools are letting *him* take pictures—oh, come on, everyone, line up!”

Malfoy shouted to the crowd,

“Harry Potter is handing out signed photos!”

“I’m not!”

Harry snapped angrily.

“You’re jealous.”

Colin squeaked, his entire body no thicker than Crabbe’s neck.

“Jealous? Funny. Jealous that your eyes are on the back of your head and you can’t tell who’s actually qualified to sell photos?”

Malfoy sneered.

His father had told him: that Green was mysterious, even the Ministry couldn’t look up his information.

He must be a descendant of an ancient pure-blood family; otherwise, how could his family wield such deep influence within the Ministry?

Everyone at Hogwarts was wrong! They thought that Green represented Muggle-born wizards—ha, absurd!

In truth, he was the next undisputed leader of the noble pure-bloods!

No wonder Professor Snape has been acting strangely…

Draco Malfoy considered himself the cleverest wizard at Hogwarts.

His cleverness lay in knowing that some great pure-blood wizards had grander ambitions, so he casually mingled among Muggle-borns.

Like: the Dark Arts cult and their leader in the distant tower, once at the height of their power.

Thinking this, he found he disliked Muggle-born wizards less.

“Your eyes are crooked—go eat a slug, Malfoy.”

Ron growled. Crabbe stopped laughing and began menacingly grinding his chestnut-like knuckles, scanning Ron’s group.

When his gaze accidentally met Xiang Xiang Xien’s, he quickly looked away, pretending to hum a tune.

“Watch yourself, Weasley,”

Malfoy sneered,

“Don’t go causing more trouble, or your mother will have to come fetch you back.”

He mimicked a shrill, piercing voice:

“If you don’t behave—”

A group of Slytherin fifth-years burst into loud laughter.

Harry and Malfoy often clashed like this, but today Malfoy’s odd words made Xiang Xiang Xien realize something.

He glanced at Malfoy, who seemed almost flattered.

His discovery was inevitable—but Malfoy’s behavior was too strange.

“You’re lucky—let’s go!”

When Malfoy stopped staring at Xiang Xiang Xien, his face returned to its usual sneer.

As if receiving some signal, he left amid Harry’s group’s angry and confused stares.

“Master Malfoy, why are we leaving?”

Goyle was baffled.

“Goyle, your stupid head couldn’t possibly understand. Some people appear among Muggle-borns, but their noble blood ensures their allies will never be those filthy Muggle-borns.”

Malfoy said in a melodious tone.

In the Great Hall.

Harry was even more confused—Malfoy came over, said some cryptic things, and just left?

“The whole wizarding world is waiting for another photo,” “letting *him* take pictures”… it was too easy to guess who he meant.

But how did Malfoy know?

“Ron, do you know what’s going on with Malfoy?”

Harry whispered.

“I think he’s trying to stir up trouble, Harry. Don’t you think it’s easy to identify Xiang Xiang Xien at Hogwarts? Come on, no one’s more unusual than Xiang Xiang Xien.”

Ron whispered back.

As morning mist spread, Hogwarts Castle was shrouded in an odd atmosphere; every wizard here had their own theories.

One more chapter coming soon—today’s five updates.