"My father is a Muggle, my mother is a witch, and I have two older sisters, but they did not inherit my mother's magic, but I inherited..." Lockhart began to talk, recalling remember my childhood.
"She favors me very much." Lockhart's tone now is not at all complacent, and until now, it is just stating a faint fact.
"I'm a wizard and I can go to Hogwarts, but neither of my older sisters can! It makes me proud."
"At that time, I started to be vain, and that kind of emotion was growing in my heart, even though I didn't know it was vanity at that time." Lockhart said slowly.
"I do my best to catch people's eyes, to attract people's attention, and that gives me satisfaction."
"By the way, I could actually go into Slytherin at the time, but in the end I ended up in Ravenclaw."
"I thought I was the best, but I'm not." Lockhart's tone at this time was not unwilling, but relieved.
"There, no one was surprised by my naturally handsome curly hair."
"Even though I'm actually smarter than most other people."
"But I am not satisfied, I hope to be the best, otherwise life is meaningless."
"It sounds stupid now, doesn't it?"
Hermione felt the same way, and nodded slightly in agreement.
In fact, she also pursues perfection very much, and all the excellent report cards are on the report card. If there is a good one at any time.
She will also be very mad and uncomfortable.
But it looks like Lockhart has gone to the other extreme.
He put his mind on sensationalism.
"I did stupid things to get their attention."
"I brag to my classmates that I expect to make the Philosopher's Stone before I graduate."
"I also intend to lead the England Quidditch team to the World Cup and eventually become the youngest Minister for Magic in the UK."
"A good ideal." Hermione comforted, not knowing what expression to make for a moment.
These sound a bit far-fetched, but out of courtesy, Hermione still praised him.
"But it shouldn't be too bad in the end, right? After you graduated, you were famous far and wide." Hermione recalled a bit, and began to list some of his titles.
"A recipient of the Order of Merlin Third Class, an honorary member of the Anti-Dark Arts League, and a five-time winner of the "Witch Weekly" Most Charming Smile Award, is also a great achievement."
"What if I say that all my achievements are fake?" Lockhart's words startled Hermione.
"Fake?" She repeated, and her gaze fell on the man again.
"Haven't you defeated many evil dark magic creatures?"
"I'm sorry, I have deceived many people, I have coaxed accomplished wizards and witches into revealing their greatest deeds, and then erased their memories, and finally, after I processed it, wrote it into a book, becoming own things."
"The Oblivion Curse?" Hermione looked at Lockhart in surprise and frowned subconsciously.
"Yes, this is the only spell I'm good at." Lockhart nodded and smiled bitterly at Hermione.
"My student days have ruined my studies."
"I once carved my name on the Quidditch pitch in 20-foot letters."
"I used to project my likeness into the sky, like You-Know-Who's Dark Mark."
"I've put all my energy into it, and I haven't learned much about the really powerful magic."
"That is to say, you don't actually know Defense Against the Dark Arts, so why did Professor Dumbledore allow you to take this position?" Hermione immediately grasped the crux of the problem and asked.
"I don't know either." Lockhart still kept a bitter smile on his face, and slowly shook his head.
"By the way, Miss Granger, I still have a small request, can you satisfy me?" the man said abruptly.
"Tell me." Hermione was in a daze now, desperately trying to use her own logic to piece together the details of the information revealed by Lockhart, straighten everything out, and complete the integration.
But it is too difficult.
"Can you ask me to sign another autograph? I want to experience this feeling of being adored again." Lockhart said tentatively, making a strange request.
There was a moment of shock on Hermione's face, but she quickly understood.
"Professor Lockhart, I'm your admirer. Could you please sign me?" Hermione approached him with an expression of admiration, and picked up the "Daily Prophet" on the bedside table. Got up and handed it to Lockhart.
"It's a great honor." Gilderoy Lockhart smiled, maintaining his original elegant smile, conjured up his peacock brush from nowhere, and left his own fancy and gorgeous brushstrokes on the paper smoothly. sign.
Handed it to Hermione.
"Thank you," he said.
"No." Hermione replied curtly.
"Thank you." Lockhart repeated, then closed his eyes and lids, and quickly fell asleep.
This was vaguely a one-sided conversation, and it was over.
Hermione's sympathy still prevailed and granted the dying man's wish.
In this conversation, Hermione heard how a gifted person was obliterated by everyone, and some inner doubts were solved, but the most important secrets and puzzles were still not solved.
The so-called truth is still clouded.
Then Hermione went all the way downstairs, left St. Mungo's Hospital for Witchcraft and Wizardry, met up with the Weasleys and Harry at the agreed Muggle supermarket, walked around for a while, and found a dilapidated small hotel to stay in.
On the second day, they came to visit Mr. Weasley again, and then they were ready to go back to school and leave.
It could be seen that on the way back to school, their spirits were not very high.
"Harry? Did they quarrel?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Because of Percy," Harry explained in a low voice.
"Don't talk about him, Umbridge's lackey! What job will keep him so busy that Dad won't come to see it." Ron heard it even in a low voice, and yelled out loud.
"Say what?" Mrs. Weasley patted Ron on the head.
"He's your brother, don't talk nonsense." Mrs. Weasley said sternly.
Then a group of people walked into a fruit shop, many tiles outside had fallen off, and many flies were flying around.
Here's another hidden Floo fan site.
After saying goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, the group returned to Hogwarts. After all, they had classes tomorrow.
The visitation is over.
At the same time, in the underground of the busiest downtown area in London, in an office of the Ministry of Magic, the political center of the British wizarding society, such a scene was unfolding.
This is a room created out of thin air between the third and fourth floors of the Ministry of Magic. It has a circular shape. The most placed around it are bookcases and books. Occasionally one or two books are read. The surface is not so smooth, and a golden feather protrudes abruptly from the page.
That's Fox's golden tail feathers.