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Spring passed into autumn, and a year went by very quickly.
The young witches and wizards of Hogwarts were about to welcome the annual final exams.
On the first day after the exams ended, the professors also began assigning holiday homework.
Do not think Hogwarts had no holiday assignments. Do not think the students could happily play all summer just because they were not allowed to cast spells at home. The Hogwarts professors did assign homework, and quite a lot of it. Most of it came in the form of essays.
If they did not read properly over the holidays, there was no way to complete it. Harry had complained about this more than once during the first-year holiday.
Of course, that was not entirely true. At least one professor had no intention of assigning holiday homework.
"Although I regret it deeply, and although I would dearly love to continue guiding you for several more years, alas, I must leave. Next year, your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will change again."
Lockhart stood at the front of the classroom in a pale blue robe, wearing a deliberately sorrowful expression. With an exaggerated gesture he clearly believed was charming, he said, "Do not miss me too much. If you do miss me, you may write to me, but do not forget to buy my new book. I will certainly reply."
In any case, he had no plans to continue teaching here next year. Holiday homework was completely meaningless.
He was already planning his new book: Me and Hogwarts.
The Duelling Club, the basilisk, the Chamber of Secrets. All the experiences he had gone through at Hogwarts were more than enough for Lockhart to finish his new book.
Although, apart from the Duelling Club, none of those things had anything to do with him.
But that did not stop him from adding them to his novel.
Adapted from true events. He had never said it had to be exactly the same.
"If I could, I truly would love to accompany you a little longer. You are all wonderful."
"Miss Hannah, you are a... I hope you will remember me."
"Mr. Justin, you are a..."
"Mr. Seamus, you are a..."
Lockhart began calling names around the classroom, giving each student a farewell comment like a teacher in a school drama.
"Harry Potter, you will become tomorrow's star of the wizarding world."
"..."
"And especially you, Mr. Dursley. You are the cleverest student I have ever taught. Keep going. You will become an excellent wizard."
"..."
It was clichéd, but the effect was very good.
Quite a few students whose names he called began crying on the spot.
Of course, many students were not exactly looking kindly at him either. For example...
"And then there is you, Borscht. Your hair is as red as your name."
Ron: 'My name is bloody...'
"Lastly, you, Naba."
Neville: "..."
"Parting is only so that we may meet again under better circumstances. The next time we meet, I hope you will still call me professor."
"You are my students. Students I love."
After saying this, Lockhart sorrowfully wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, just in time to block the students' view. It looked as though he did not want anyone to see his grief. After a long pause, when the handkerchief moved away, his eyes were bright red, as if he really had cried.
It was onion. He had put onion in the handkerchief.
The oldest method was often the most effective.
Anyone who did not know better might have thought he truly could not bear to leave.
In reality, he had already performed the same scene separately for several other years. In a while, he would still have to go perform it for the first-years. Never doubt Lockhart's professionalism as an actor. In that respect, he was genuinely outstanding.
His performance was unquestionably successful. It really did stir the emotions of many students.
'Professor Lockhart may not have much ability, but he is a good teacher.'
Quite a few sentimental students thought this, selectively ignoring every ridiculous thing Lockhart had done over the year.
The man was leaving. Why keep holding on to it?
Even if they did not actually like Lockhart very much, the mood had already reached that point.
It was like students crying at the end of an awful camp, even though they had hated the instructor the entire time. A few years later, the person's number might still be sitting in their contacts, and they would no longer remember who it belonged to.
A sorrowful atmosphere spread through the classroom.
Many students who had not cried just now began secretly wiping tears away. Hufflepuff had the most of them, the poor honest children.
This atmosphere continued until the classroom door was shoved open roughly.
A middle-aged man with a grave expression walked in.
"Sorry, Professor Lockhart. No... Mr. Lockhart. We need to interrupt your lesson."
After looking around the room, he said with faint sarcasm, "Oh. Perhaps not a lesson. It seems you have already prepared your farewell."
"Mr. Gawain, I don't understand what you mean. Do you need something from me?"
Lockhart spoke to the man with some dissatisfaction. The man was from the Auror Office. Lockhart had dealt with him a few times before, so they could be considered acquainted.
"If you cannot give me a reasonable explanation, I believe I will write a letter to Mr. Fudge."
Lockhart was, after all, a celebrity in the wizarding world. The honors he usually boasted about were not things an ordinary person could obtain.
With his enormous fan base and many public honors, he had no real power, but his words still carried some weight.
Gawain stared at him, contempt in his eyes, and sneered. "We received a report. Lockhart, your secret is out."
"Now we need you to come back with us for questioning."
Gawain looked at Lockhart with disgust. This creature, while teaching at Hogwarts, had used deception and other methods more than once to exploit female students.
A professor? He was worse than a beast. Sickening and contemptible.
Unfortunately, if the Ministry could not prove coercion, Memory Charms, or abuse of authority, they might not be able to convict him of anything serious.
At most, he would take a short tour of the Ministry of Magic, and before long they would have to let him go.
But even then, they could not simply let it pass.
"You may remain silent, but some of what you say will be submitted as evidence."
After he finished speaking, several uniformed Aurors filed in.
'My secret is out? What secret?'
Lockhart stared blankly at the Aurors. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind. Then he immediately thought of his use of Memory Charms to attack other wizards and steal their experiences.
Only that could be called his secret coming out.
'No. How could they know? I never told anyone.'
This was the greatest secret hidden in his heart.
In a trembling voice, he asked Gawain, "Where are we going?"
"The Wizengamot."
At that word, Lockhart began shaking all over.
If they were taking him before the Wizengamot, then it could only be for those things he had done.
'Damn it. They really know!'
Lockhart's mind began racing wildly.
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