"Are there any other offensive magical items you can make?" Lockhart asked.
However, Lockhart realised that this was not very reserved, so he cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"Of course… with my strength, I wouldn't have needed these trinkets.
Before coming to school, however, I fought a powerful Dark Wizard to protect a group of centaurs.
Although I eventually defeated him by a landslide, I was cursed by him, a very nasty curse that made my charms unstable and often at risk of getting out of hand…"
Lockhart seemed to believe his own words as he spoke, and his face was filled with determination, as if he had fought a powerful Dark Wizard to the death to protect the centaur tribe.
He also reminded Ivan to keep this information to himself, in case his fans got upset.
Ivan rolled his eyes, speechless. Lockhart's ability to spin a tale and the thickness of his skin were beyond his wildest imagination.
No wonder he was able to produce so many bestsellers.
This made Ivan more determined to make a killing on Lockhart,
With that in mind, Ivan spoke solemnly to Lockhart.
"Professor Lockhart, you have my deepest sympathy. I can customise a set of magical objects for you that will definitely meet your needs!"
"If you have enough Galleons…" Ivan's lips curved.
Lockhart did not hesitate to say,
Money was never an issue …
After negotiating with Lockhart for two thousand Galleons worth of customised props, Ivan left the ward feeling satisfied.
Two thousand Galleons was not a small sum, and the only person at Hogwarts who could easily fork out this sum of money, other than Dumbledore, whose wealth was unknown and could be embezzled, was Lockhart.
Crucially, when Lockhart got used to the power boost that these props brought him, he could not do without them.
Just by doing after-sales services, one could earn a lot of Galleons…
With that in mind, Yvonne returned to her room and scribbled a letter, asking Dougett to bring her the ingredients for the potion.
Ron, who had just returned from the playground and was covered in dirt, asked Ivan when he saw him.
"Ivan, have you just come from the hospital wing? How's Harry? Is he all right?"
"Harry's injuries have been treated by Madam Pomfrey, but he's still unconscious. He'll probably have to spend the night in the hospital wing, won't he?" Yvonne explained as she tied the letter to Marka's foot and released her.
Ron was relieved, and then he angrily cursed the Slytherins, thinking that they must be behind this!
…
Late at night, in the Hogwarts Hospital wing, Harry trembled with anger at the sight of the small, ugly house-elf.
"So you're the one who boarded up the station so I couldn't catch the train! Did you know I was almost expelled from school for this!"
"Dobby… Dobby was only trying to protect you, sir!" Dobby shook his large, wrinkled head and showed Harry his ten bandaged fingers.
"Dobby had to burn his hands with a hot iron…" Dobby said sadly.
"But Dobby didn't care, sir. Dobby thought Harry Potter was safe, but he never dreamed you'd go the other way!"
Dobby's eyes glistened with tears and his large ears flapped as he stared at Harry, as if he was heartbroken that Harry had failed him.
"Anyway…anyway, Harry Potter has to get out of this school, right now, right now! Something terrible is going to happen here…" screamed Dobby.
"Enough! It's safe…" Harry threw a pillow at Dobby, glaring at him angrily.
"Except you! Except you!"
"Dobby knew you wouldn't believe him, sir. That's why he used the Bludger and the Quaffle…" Dobby took the hit without flinching. It didn't hurt, but a tear rolled down his cheek.
Like a protagonist in a bittersweet play who does good deeds that are never understood.
Harry, however, showed no sympathy at all. Instead, he was so angry that he wanted to strangle the house-elf in front of him.
"So you're the one who tampered with the Bludger! Do you really want to run me over?" Harry's anger flared.
"Not kill you, sir, why would you think that?" Dobby shook his head wildly, shaking with fear and trembling slightly.
"Dobby's only trying to save your life! Even being sent home wounded is better than being here, sir. All Dobby wants is for Harry Potter to suffer a little injury and be sent home!"
Dobby's large, watery eyes were wide open, and his hands were clutching a sheet to cover his emaciated body.
"Why? Why would you rather have me broken and sent to the hospital than have me leave Hogwarts? I bet you wouldn't tell me, would you?" Harry asked sarcastically.
Harry could not understand her words, and repeatedly tried to say that she was thinking of him, only to nearly get himself killed twice.
'You call this doing yourself a favour?'
"If Harry Potter knew what he meant to us humble, enslaved little people, he'd think better of it…"
Under Harry's sardonic gaze, Dobby picked up the pillow that Harry had thrown on the floor and, as more tears fell from his eyes, he murmured to Harry about the tragic past of house-elves.
Dobby then wept and thanked Harry for defeating the Dark Lord, which made life easier for the house-elves …
Harry was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say, but Dobby did not stop there, continuing excitedly.
"When Dobby was at home, he heard his master say that he had sold it to a young Hogwarts wizard! The Dark Lord had left it to his master. It was very, very evil…"
Dobby froze for a moment, then realised he had said something he shouldn't have, grabbed Harry's water bottle from the bedside table and smashed it against his head.
"Bad Dobby… bad Dobby… bad Dobby!" said Dobby, smashing it.
The sound of Dobby's head hitting the water jar was loud enough to make Harry wince.
Harry realised the gravity of the situation when he heard Dobby mention the Dark Lord. He grabbed Dobby's arm to stop him from injuring himself.
"Tell me, what was it? Who did your owner sell it to? And how did you know he brought it to the school…"