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Chapter 228 — Don't Make Me Collect Your Corpse!!
"Get off the stage!"
"That's right—how can you be our professor?!"
"Threatening Darren—disgusting!"
"Threaten him? Do you think he's easy to bully?"
"Someone tell the Headmaster to fire him!"
"This duelling club is a joke. I'm not coming again!"
"Ugh, if I'd known Lockhart was running it, I'd never have come!"
Lockhart had always been unpopular, but today—thanks to Darren—students absolutely loathed him.
The sheer intensity of their disgust made Lockhart tremble with indignation.
That night, he packed his gaudy robes and dragged his heavy suitcase straight to Dumbledore's office.
"When Headmaster Dumbledore invited me, he did not inform me that Hogwarts students would slander me, despise me, insult me—this is unbearable!"
His face was theatrically wounded.
Behind that expression, though, a spark of joy flickered in his eyes.
He saw an escape.
He hadn't wanted to teach here in the first place.
Everyone knew the Defence Against the Dark Arts post was cursed—most professors barely survived the school year.
But Dumbledore discovered his secret and forced him to take the position, threatening to expose the evidence he held.
If Lockhart survived the year—or was expelled—he'd be allowed to leave.
So Lockhart had made a plan:
Act annoyingly enough that the entire school would beg Dumbledore to kick him out.
THAT was why he had acted so bizarrely for six months.
He wasn't an idiot—he was a Ravenclaw graduate, after all.
He pretended to be foolish, scattered, arrogant—not because he was—but because it helped his goal: get expelled.
Then the petrification incidents began.
Then Darren was nearly killed by Death Eaters.
He had nearly fled overnight.
But Dumbledore had stopped him.
To speed up his expulsion, Lockhart had even arranged a fake duel with Darren.
He expected Darren to simply expose him as a fraud.
He did not expect Darren to claim he had threatened him.
Threaten Darren Potter?
Absurd!
If he threatened Darren, he'd look like a Death Eater!
If someone reported it, he'd be in Azkaban in a week.
Absolutely not.
But instead of believing him, Dumbledore leaned back and said:
"Why did you threaten Darren?"
Lockhart almost choked.
"I—WHAT? I told you, I never threatened him!"
Dumbledore watched him calmly over his half-moon glasses.
"Don't pretend, Gilderoy. Severus already told me. You threatened Darren in front of dozens of students. Darren was pale with fright. Do you believe Darren would lie?"
Behind the lenses, his blue eyes gleamed.
Darren. Would. Not. Lie.
So Lockhart must have.
"He and Snape wouldn't lie? Then that means I'm lying?!"
Lockhart stared at the Headmaster as if betrayed by the universe.
Dumbledore nodded mildly.
Lockhart's jaw dropped.
"Dumbledore—you KNOW why I'm here! You know I want to leave at any moment! Why would I EVER threaten Darren Potter?!"
"Yes," Dumbledore said softly, "and that is precisely why I asked."
His gaze dropped to the suitcase in Lockhart's hand.
"Or perhaps… you wish to escape. And in desperation, you considered contacting the Death Eaters? Perhaps even helping them?"
Dumbledore suddenly leaned forward, eyes hardening.
Lockhart stumbled back in fright.
"Dumbledore—don't you dare probe my mind! My memories are not for you to—!"
He snapped defensively.
There were things in his memory best left unseen.
Very few of them legal.
Dumbledore's expression cooled.
"Exactly. That is what concerns me."
Then, in a low voice:
"So here are your choices:
Return to your post as professor…
or go straight to the Ministry of Magic and wait for Azkaban."
"Oh—Merlin—Dumbledore, I don't want to stay at Hogwarts! It's awful—"
"The Chamber of Secrets," he rambled in panic. "A girl died last time—it could happen again! Death Eaters are roaming around—what if they barge in and kill someone? Nine students died—what if professors are next?!"
He was babbling uncontrollably.
"I know you are frightened," Dumbledore said lightly. "But I will not permit you to leave.
You're welcome to continue your original strategy… and wait for the students to beg for your expulsion."
Lockhart's hands shook violently.
Dumbledore knew.
The whole time.
And he still wouldn't let him leave.
How heartless could the man be?!
And if he stayed until the end of term, his career would be ruined—his books exposed as frauds, his stories questioned.
His fans would turn on him.
His reputation gone.
"Still," Dumbledore said mildly, "you are alive. And that means you will not be going to Azkaban… yet."
The Headmaster's gaze turned dark—cold, almost predatory.
"Do not test my patience again, Gilderoy.
And pray I never have to collect your corpse."
Lockhart's entire body shuddered.
He fled the office, suitcase dragging and nerves shredded.
—
"Oh my if it … isn't Hogwarts' most celebrated celebrity?"
Snape's voice curled around him like smoke as Lockhart stumbled out the door.
Lockhart forced a pitiful smile—but a sudden fog washed over his thoughts.
His mind blurred.
What—? Did Snape—? How dare he—? A professor—
Snape's wand flicked.
"Obliviate."
Lockhart's final conscious thought was a bewildered one:
Since when was Snape that good?
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