Chapter 225: Arrest

Some students burst into laughter, and Michael couldn't help but click his tongue.

"Professor Lockhart is truly the bravest man I've ever seen... I wonder if he'll still be breathing by tomorrow morning."

"The professors aren't that petty. Everyone knows he's just joking," Padma replied.

"Is that so?" Michael raised an eyebrow. "I have a feeling Professor Snape might have a different opinion."

They all instinctively turned their heads and saw the Potions Master with a face as dark as the bottom of a cauldron, glaring murderously at every student who dared to glance his way.

Poor Professor Flitwick, meanwhile, had buried his face in his hands and looked ready to crawl under the table.

"Professor Flitwick has the worst luck!" Michael said, genuinely sympathetic.

Wade nodded silently, then cast another glance at Lockhart.

"Professor Lockhart should count himself lucky that this is Dumbledore's Hogwarts," Wade remarked. "In the old days, he'd have probably already received at least two duel challenges by now."

Michael chuckled. "Professor Flitwick was a dueling champion in his younger days."

But his amusement didn't last long.

All morning, the dwarfs roamed the school delivering Valentine's cards. Sometimes, they would play the harp and sing romantic songs with their wrinkled faces and hoarse voices—it was simply a large-scale social death scene..

Michael, who usually got along well with everyone, finally got his comeuppance.

By noon, he had received a total of eleven Valentine's cards. On one occasion, just as Professor McGonagall was about to start class, a dwarf burst in, singing and tap-dancing, and forcibly stuffed a pink card into Michael's hands.

Michael's face turned crimson, and he didn't dare meet the professor's gaze.

As for Padma, she stood nearby with her arms crossed and watched him coldly.

Wade, however, had no such troubles. The Ignore charm worked just as well on dwarfs. When avoiding them wasn't an option, he used a Confundus Charm to make one serenade a tree for ten minutes straight.

The chaotic morning dragged on. Neither the students nor the professors had any focus for their lessons, with dwarfs barging into classrooms at random intervals.

Only Professor Lockhart seemed to be in high spirits. During class, he bragged about receiving fifty-seven Valentine's cards.

By lunchtime, the decorations were even more extravagant. Blooming roses stretched from the Great Hall into the hallways.

Lockhart loudly announced that he had received over a hundred cards. He also took a subtle jab at those who hadn't received a single card, deliberately glancing at Professor Snape.

He then pretended to be surprised as a group of dwarfs sang a poem written for him by one of his admirers.

The professors all gazed at Lockhart with visible annoyance, except for his enchanted pink dolphin, which wobbled happily on the table in front of him.

"Why not celebrate, children?" Lockhart, who had clearly had a bit to drink, raised his goblet high and said loudly, "After all, it's the holiday of love!"

BANG!

The doors to the Great Hall were suddenly flung open, and several tall shadows fell across the flower-strewn floor.

Lockhart, mid-sip, turned in surprise to see a group of figures dressed like dark wizards, cloaked in black and with their faces hidden.

The enormous hall fell silent. The students stared in alarm at the strangers and instinctively sought reassurance from the professors.

At the staff table, Professor McGonagall, who had maintained a stoic expression throughout Lockhart's earlier antics, stood up to meet the group. She asked sharply, 

"Who are you, and what is your business here?"

She wasn't overly concerned; the castle's alarms and defenses hadn't been triggered, indicating these individuals were not intruders but had received the headmaster's permission to enter.

"Apologies for interrupting your lunch, Professor McGonagall," said the man leading the group, he removed his hood to reveal a lion-like face. His tawny brown hair framed his head like a mane, and his piercing yellow eyes gleamed with authority.

He strode confidently forward, and the students in his path scrambled to get out of his way.

McGonagall's tense expression softened slightly, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile flickered at her lips. 

"Scrimgeour?" she said.

"It's me, Professor McGonagall," Rufus Scrimgeour replied with a polite nod. 

"I regret interrupting what appears to be a rather… romantic gathering. However, we must apprehend a dangerous criminal, and I trust you will understand."

"Criminal?" McGonagall frowned. "This hall is filled with teachers and students. What criminal could possibly be here?"

"Oh, there is one." 

Scrimgeour said as his gaze shifted toward the back of the room. His piercing eyes locked onto Lockhart, whose nervous expression betrayed his guilt.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Scrimgeour said coldly, "we have irrefutable evidence that you illegally used powerful memory charms on numerous individuals to steal their accomplishments and fame. 

Many of them have been left struggling to live, some unable even to remember their own names. You are under arrest. Come with us."

"Oh, Merlin—"

Hermione let out a muffled gasp, and covered her mouth in shock.

The students stared and their jaws dropped in disbelief, as if they had misheard. Then, as one, they turned their eyes toward the dazzlingly pink-clad professor.

Lockhart's face had gone deathly pale, and his garish pink robes were unable to mask his growing terror. 

He looked desperately around at the crowd, and stammered feebly, "N-no… You can't do this… You don't have the authority to arrest me! I… I'm a recipient of the Third Class Order of Merlin!"

"Actually—" Scrimgeour interrupted grimly, "I do."

Scrimgeour limped forward, and Lockhart stumbled back a couple of steps, bumped into a chair and nearly fell over.

The lion-like Auror towered over him, his expression was blank as he said, "The arrest warrant has already been signed. Whatever excuses you have, save them for the Wizengamot during your trial."

Lockhart clutched his wand, as though considering resistance. But one look at the burly wizard—his robe was barely concealing his muscular frame, his wand was firmly gripped in his hand—and at the group of Aurors cloaked in black behind him, sapped his courage.

After a brief internal struggle, Lockhart finally let his wand fall from his grasp. Scrimgeour seized it immediately, and a spell sent a rope flying out to bind Lockhart's hands.

"This… this is slander! Persecution!" 

Lockhart shouted as the Aurors began to drag him away. "I'll file a complaint! I'm innocent!"

Students and professors silently watched as Lockhart was escorted out by the Aurors. While a few of his most devoted fans seemed unwilling to accept the truth, most people weren't surprised.

Over the past several months, Lockhart's incompetence had become glaringly obvious. Many had already begun to question his so-called legendary feats, but they had assumed he was just a skilled novelist. 

No one expected that even the stories themselves weren't his own creations.

Aside from Professor McGonagall exchanging a few quiet words with Scrimgeour, the Aurors came and went without any resistance or interruptions.

With Lockhart taken away, the festive Valentine's Day atmosphere evaporated entirely. Students and staff sat in the pink-decorated Great Hall, and felt as though the day had taken an utterly bizarre turn.

Only the dwarves seemed unaffected, and continued to sing their raspy, off-key songs.

It took a while before the hall buzzed with murmured discussions again.

Michael, after a brief moment of satisfaction, suddenly remembered something. 

He turned to Wade and asked hesitantly, "At least Professor Quirrell taught for an entire year. Now that Professor Lockhart has been arrested, there's still half a term left… What's going to happen to our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes?"

Once again, Wade was struck by how quintessentially Ravenclaw they were.

At a time like this, only Ravenclaw students—and perhaps Hermione from Gryffindor—would be worried about their coursework.

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