"It's not fair at all."
The voice repeated again, faint, soft, enchanting, and filled with a compelling allure that gripped the heart, as if under a spell. Lockhart's previously wildly excited emotions suddenly calmed down.
"...Yes, it's not fair at all," his eyes staring straight ahead, Lockhart softly echoed, "I've paid everything for fame, what have you paid?"
"Yes...he paid nothing..." that mouth still murmuring, "What's more, wasn't it you who pushed all this?"
"You envy that boy, envy his power, envy his fame, envy how he's worshipped by everyone, envy his achievements—you want to kill him."
"And you did just that...a professor, plotting to kill another professor right in Hogwarts...using a thousand-year-old basilisk..."
"But he didn't die!!" Lockhart suddenly became agitated again, "Even Slytherin's creation couldn't kill him! I saw the basilisk's corpse! It was all charred black, even brutally broken into three pieces—it's all your fault! All your fault! If you hadn't said the basilisk could definitely kill him!"
"Now it's over, all over...Dumbledore will surely find me, he knows it was me, I'll die too, killed just like that poor basilisk.."
As if completely drained, Lockhart slowly squatted on the ground, his arms wrapping around himself, sobbing.
"Me? You! I am you!" the voice kept declaring, even as Lockhart desperately covered his ears with his hands, it couldn't be stopped, reaching deep into his soul, "You're just a cowardly wretch, Lockhart, you can't even follow through on a murder—but for now, wipe away those pathetic tears."
"Yes, the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, did kill the basilisk, and his fame has risen once more—yet so what?"
"You, who once lurked in dark corners, know better than those mediocrities what the name Dumbledore truly means, and what kind of man that old wizard is...Even if he keeps saying how old he is, he still holds power firmly in his grasp."
"The so-called Minister of Magic is nothing but his echo, the two trials at the Ministry have let everyone see his true colors, the Wizengamot is Dumbledore's one-man show, or rather, the entire British wizarding world is under his control."
"The great Dumbledore, ha, a white Dark Lord secretly ruling over everyone, he can't tolerate things slipping from his control—so the question is, how long can he tolerate this strong-willed Potter, whose power and fame have already caught up to his?"
"From the first moment I saw him, I knew this boy and Dumbledore couldn't coexist—they're not the same kind of people at all, the worlds they wish to build are utterly different."
"...They'll go to war," staring blankly at the air in front of him, Lockhart muttered to himself, "And I haven't lost yet...the basilisk's soul is still with me."
"Yes, a wretched, resentment-filled soul..." that mouth suddenly chuckled lightly, "Watch, wait."
"One day..."
The Defense Against the Dark Arts office fell into complete silence, the photos of Lockhart hanging on the walls oblivious to it all, their faces still bearing brilliant smiles, yet utterly silent.
By dinnertime, as the students were still enthusiastically discussing the basilisk incident, the Great Hall doors suddenly opened, and several people in traditional wizard robes with serious expressions walked in briskly—Rita was following behind them, camera in hand.
Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stood up and quickly went to greet them. After a brief exchange, Dumbledore waved his wand to extend the head table and invited them to sit, then announced in a loud voice amid the students' curious gazes:
"I suppose, though I haven't formally informed you yet, you clever lot have probably figured out for yourselves what has been happening in the school these past days."
Dumbledore's words immediately elicited a wave of laughter, and Fred shouted back loudly: "Yes, Professor, a basilisk! Harry saved us all!"
"Ah ha, exactly as you said," Dumbledore said cheerfully: "After three days of careful inspection and repairs, I'm pleased to announce to you all that the west wing basement classroom area will be reopened for passage, and after a thousand years, we've finally unlocked another part of Hogwarts' secrets—yes, we've found the Chamber left by Slytherin."
Upon Dumbledore's personal confirmation, the students excitedly whistled, and some wild ones pounded the tables forcefully.
"Hmm, obviously, you already knew that," Dumbledore said in mock disappointment: "And you also know what's in that chamber—the very basilisk that's currently on display in the entrance hall."
"A friendly reminder: if you want another look at the basilisk, better hurry, as tomorrow it'll be sent to our Potions professor's office, and what it turns into after that is beyond this old man's knowledge."
Not minding Dumbledore's jab at all, the thought of the incoming basilisk corpse made Snape so pleased he could almost sing.
"Honestly, this is indeed an unimaginable event," Dumbledore said with some emotion: "I've lived in this castle for nearly a hundred years, but I never imagined such a dangerous basilisk was living right beside me."
"I'm sure you've learned from Miss Rita Skeeter's articles what crimes this basilisk committed decades ago. Miss Warren lost her young life simply because she accidentally met the basilisk's gaze, which is truly a tragic matter."
"And now, decades later, this basilisk attacked a member of Hogwarts once more, but this time the victim was a professor—I hate to say it this way, but fortunately, it was a professor—a professor strong enough to slay the dangerous basilisk."
"Harry Potter!"
Not just at the Gryffindor table, students from the other houses also chimed in unison with the name.
"Yes, Harry Potter," Dumbledore nodded and said: "I have no intention of judging one of Hogwarts' founders, Salazar Slytherin, for what purpose he left a basilisk in his chamber a thousand years ago, nor do I wish to repeat facts everyone knows, like Slytherin's ideals and such."
"I'll speak only of reality: in reality, Slytherin's basilisk posed a major threat to the students' safety, and it was thanks to Professor Potter's heroic battle that the basilisk didn't cause greater harm on Halloween night."
"To that end, I need to introduce a few guests," Dumbledore suddenly raised his voice, "From the Order of Merlin: Mr. Kells Fuller, Mr. Jell Zorn, Ms. Laura Jones—and of course, from the Daily Prophet, reporter Miss Rita Skeeter."
As Dumbledore introduced them one by one, those named stood up in turn to greet the students.
Even the most mischievous students focused their attention at this moment; they had heard that exciting term, the Order of Merlin—and since the Order was here, didn't that mean—
"Thank you, Albus," the leading white-haired old wizard, Fuller, said with a smile: "I almost thought you'd deprive me of my final pleasure, hmm, the chance to speak with these lovely children."
"Oh, Kells, I wouldn't do such a thing," Dumbledore, also a member of the Order of Merlin, replied with a smile: "Please, go ahead."
"Thank you again, Albus," Fuller turned and said: "Every time I return to Hogwarts, it stirs my heart; this castle holds so many of my emotions....and of course, so many secrets."
"I see your eager hearts, well, if we were more familiar, you'd probably be urging me already—alright, alright, in that case," Fuller raised his voice, "As the current head of the Order of Merlin, I'm pleased to announce to you all that, in recognition of Mr. Harry James Potter's outstanding contributions in protecting Hogwarts' students, we shall award him a First-Class Order of Merlin as commendation!"
The words had barely fallen when the students jumped up—literally jumped up, especially the Gryffindors, who screamed and laughed wildly, chanting Harry's name.
"That's the Order of Merlin!" Ron yelled to those around him, "I never doubted Harry would get it, but I didn't expect it so soon!"
"But he deserves it!" Dean Thomas roared excitedly, or his voice would have been drowned out completely, "And it's a First-Class! Not like some people's Third-Class!!"
As someone who always bragged about his honors and was already disliked by the students, Lockhart was naturally dragged out for ridicule at this moment. Dean's voice was loud, loud enough for those at the head table to hear.
Lockhart's face still maintained a forced smile, but his hand under the table was clenched tightly.
Seeing this was worse than killing him.
Harry and Mr. Fuller had already come to the front of the head table. After pinning the First-Class Order of Merlin on Harry's chest, Fuller gave a light pat, which made the students' cheers and applause even more fervent.
The applause and cheers lasted a full few minutes, while Rita frantically took photos, constantly changing positions in the hall.
"...Thank you," after signaling repeatedly, Harry finally got the students to quiet down. He said earnestly: "I'm a professor at Hogwarts, I just did what I should do, that's all."
The short speech made the students applaud even more vigorously.
"Oh, it may be nothing to you, but for most wizards, it's an almost impossible heroic feat, Professor Potter," Fuller said with a smile: "Protecting these students is protecting the future of the wizarding world; such merit deserves recognition, so accept it with humility."
The Order of Merlin people came quickly and left quickly. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students excitedly crowded around, wanting to touch the legendary Order of Merlin medal with their own hands—and it was the First-Class, representing the highest honor.
Rita's camera flashes were nearly blinding; it was foreseeable that tomorrow's Daily Prophet would be a bestseller again.
It took Harry a great deal of effort to finally escape the enthusiastic crowd—truly enthusiastic, especially those older students....female students, many of whom could technically be his seniors, enthusiastically, uh, taking advantage, hugging and touching amid the crowd.
And when Harry returned to his office, Sirius was waving the medal around, yelling excitedly, looking teary-eyed, constantly sighing that Harry had grown up, and urging him to summon James and Lily's souls quickly to show them...the noisy godfather was enough to raise one's blood pressure.
The First-Class Order of Merlin—for British wizards, this medal basically represented the pinnacle of achievement a wizard could attain.
But for Harry, what he was more looking forward to now were those basilisk materials pried from Snape's hands—in the face of such rare materials that most people wouldn't see once in a lifetime, Snape, who was usually very lenient with Harry and granted his every request, showed a bit of reluctance.
However, after Harry promised to forge a set of armor for him as well, this man, who was essentially Harry's godfather, finally closed his reluctant eyes.
In the Mulgore of the trunk world, Harry finally picked up his craftsmanship again in the world where he was born—forging.
Unlike potions, where lacking the corresponding herbs means you can't brew the desired effects, forging high-level armor does require precious special materials, but if they're absent, crafting a set with protective capabilities isn't difficult.
In this world, the basilisk's bones and scales were excellent materials, offering strong protection against both physical damage and wizard curses.
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