Chapter 296: The Restricted Section Plan

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class began under such an atmosphere.

As soon as he entered the classroom, Ron couldn’t hold back his laughter. What on earth was going on?

On the walls of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom hung a massive self-portrait: the wizard depicted had golden, spiky hair and wore an elaborate green-and-blue robe, painting himself with a brush.

To their astonishment, this wasn’t the only self-portrait—the entire classroom was plastered with Lofty.

“One, two, three… seven? Seven Little Lohts?”

Ron laughed uncontrollably—he was referring to the Seven Dwarfs, the story from the book Justin had casually given him, while Ron had in turn given Justin a copy of The Tale of the Three Brothers.

Though he himself owned hardly any storybooks.

“Don’t say that!”

Hermione shot Ron a glare.

Meanwhile, other students chattered as they filed into the classroom, stunned by the walls covered in Lofty.

After everyone was seated, Lofty cleared his throat loudly to quiet the room.

He picked up Neville Longbottom’s book, *With the Troll*, holding it up to display the photo on the cover—Lofty himself winking.

“I,”

he pointed at his photo and winked,

“Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Arts Defense League, five-time winner of the Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award—but I don’t go on about that. I didn’t drive away the Ghoul of Wern with a smile!”

He waited for laughter; a few people offered faint smiles.

“I see you’ve all bought my complete collection—excellent. Let’s start today with a little quiz. Don’t be afraid—it’s just to see how much you’ve read, how much you’ve understood…”

Next, Wizard Sean and the others received a paper that felt utterly hopeless.

“What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?!”

Ron’s eyes widened.

“What kind of question is that?”

Hermione scribbled furiously, shielding her paper with her left hand and edging closer to Wizard Sean.

“Someone actually knows…”

Ron muttered to Harry, then instinctively glanced past Hermione at Wizard Sean’s paper.

“You won’t believe it—Wizard Sean’s perfect record is about to end… Lilac—Wizard Sean, how do you know that?”

Ron stretched his neck, incredulous.

Did Wizard Sean admire Lockhart? The odds were lower than Harry admiring Snape.

“On the bottom right of page sixty-nine in *With the Tibetan Snowman*…”

Wizard Sean replied.

“Ah, Wizard Sean, you really don’t need to read every book so carefully, especially…”

Ron fell silent, then seemed to realize—Wizard Sean never did anything meaningless.

So he quietly went back to reading, soon stopping at the last question on the first page:

【What do you believe is Mr. Hermes’s true identity at Hogwarts?】

Below it followed several questions like: *Would Lockhart’s guidance be an indispensable part of Mr. Hermes’s growth?*

This made Ron’s gaze toward Lockhart turn wary.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and flipped through them in front of the class.

“Tsk tsk—almost no one remembers I favor lilac. I mentioned it in *With the Tibetan Snowman*…”

He winked at them playfully again.

Ron now glared at him with hostility; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas in front were stifling laughter, trembling with mirth, but Hermione listened with rapt attention.

Lockhart kept reading, pausing slightly at the last question on the first page each time, then scanning with interest the pair of calm green eyes.

“We still have two perfect scores! Mr. Wizard Sean Green and Miss Hermione Granger!

Excellent! Ten points each to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw! Now, back to business…”

He bent down, pulled a large cage covered with a cloth from behind the desk, and placed it on the table.

“Now—be careful! My task is to teach you how to defend against the most evil things known in the magical world! You will face the most terrifying creatures in this classroom.

But remember, as long as I’m here, you won’t be harmed. I only ask you to remain calm.”

He droned on endlessly; Wizard Sean heard none of it.

He was thinking about the important books in Hogwarts’s Restricted Section—*Secrets of the Darkest Art*, *Advanced Potion-Making*, *Toxic Magic*… all of which he vaguely recalled.

The ones he didn’t recall? Far too many.

Hogwarts had existed for over a millennium; its library’s collection was as vast as the stars.

The accumulated knowledge within could stir the heart of any wizard seeking to uncover magic’s secrets.

The problem: to access any restricted book, you needed a signed note from a teacher.

During his detention, Wizard Sean had asked Madam Pince; she handed him approval slips without hesitation—she had no doubt he’d get them.

Now, the person who could sign them stood right before him.

—Lockhart could sign a hundred without even looking.

When Wizard Sean looked up, the world outside his isolation had changed utterly.

Dozens of iron-blue creatures shot through the air like rockets. Two grabbed Neville by the ears and hoisted him up. Several burst through the windows, shattering glass across the back of the room.

The rest tore through the classroom, more destructive than a charging rhinoceros. They flung ink bottles at the class, shredded books and papers, ripped down wall posters, overturned trash bins, and hurled bags and textbooks out the broken windows.

Half the class had taken cover under desks; Neville swung from the chandelier.

The bell rang; everyone bolted for the door.

In the chaos, Lockhart straightened up and looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing beside Wizard Sean.

“Ah, I’d like the five of you to recapture the remaining sprites.”

He hurried past them out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Hermione kept casting freezing charms to subdue the sprites; Harry stood on books, tiptoeing to reach Neville.

Ron, however, was ecstatic:

“Wizard Sean! You have no idea what happened these past minutes! We couldn’t even call you!”

Wizard Sean stood, frowning slightly, raised his wand—and a vast flame instantly engulfed the entire classroom, faintly taking the shape of a dragon.

The roaring fire drove the shrieking iron-blue creatures to the walls; Wizard Sean’s gaze shifted, and the walls came alive, swallowing the creatures whole.

Wizard Sean’s wand swept again in a sharp arc, and stacks of books flew in, forming a towering staircase.

Wizard Sean climbed the stairs step by step, tapped his wand—and sobbing Neville tumbled onto the revolving pages.

“You alright?”

Wizard Sean asked.

The classroom fell silent.

“T-that’s what a real wizard looks like—”

Ron muttered, stunned.

Harry nodded in agreement.

Hermione stared blankly at the fleeing Lockhart, then at Wizard Sean and Neville, gently descending onto the floor, surrounded by floating pages.

“Damn fraud—”

Now, even the dimmest wizard could tell the difference.

“Honestly, it’d be better if Wizard Sean were the professor…”

“Ask: what indispensable role did Wizard Sean’s guidance play in Lockhart’s growth…”

Ron muttered.

Harry shook with suppressed laughter.