Chapter 150: Snape: “Miss Granger Earns Twenty Points for Stirring the Cauldron with Her Left Hand” {1}

~ 42 Advanced Chapters Available now on my Patreon! Dumbledore wasn’t surprised. After observing his “Golden Boy” for the past year and a half, he believed he had fully grasped everything there was to know about him. “Few young witches or wizards your age possess the courage you do, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a smile. Harry thought to himself, “Thank you for the compliment, Professor,” Harry replied with a smile. At that moment, Phineas Black returned to his portrait frame. Upon seeing Harry, he greeted him with a grin. “Hello there, Potter.” Harry turned his head, surprised that Phineas would take the initiative to speak to him. He had assumed that after the Polyjuice Potion incident, Phineas would want nothing to do with him. “Hello, Headmaster Black,” Harry responded politely. Phineas gave a sly smile, pulled on his nightcap, and climbed into bed. Dumbledore, assuming the two had met in the Headmaster’s office before, didn’t think much of it. He chuckled and said, “Oh, it seems you two are already acquainted—how curious, Phineas. This is the first time I’ve seen you greet a student from another house…” “After all, he’s one of our school’s finest, wouldn’t you say, Potter?” Phineas remarked with a meaningful tone. “I’m honored by your praise, Professor Black,” Harry replied courteously, his manners impeccable. Seeing the flawless etiquette of this former student, Phineas nodded in satisfaction, rolled over, and drifted off to sleep. “It seems he’s quite fond of you, Harry,” Dumbledore said, a hint of suspicion in his voice, though he didn’t dwell on it. “This is the first time I’ve seen Phineas take such a liking to a student outside Slytherin—you’re the first.” “Perhaps he can see my exceptional qualities,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what a good headmaster should do.” Dumbledore shook his head with a smile. “Oh no, Harry, you might not know this, but Phineas’s reputation as headmaster wasn’t exactly stellar.” “Is that so?” Harry gave a noncommittal smile. In his mind, he conceded that Phineas could indeed be a bit insufferable, but the man had also accomplished things many headmasters couldn’t. Uniting the four houses was one thing; under his tenure, the caliber of Hogwarts graduates far surpassed what it was today—that was another. If judged purely by results, Phineas might actually outshine Dumbledore in competence. In school, everyone loved the idea of a carefree education, but when exams or dark wizards came knocking, you realized how precious it was to have shed a little sweat in class. Dumbledore, never one to speak ill of others—whether to their face or behind their back—didn’t regale Harry with Phineas’s dark history. Instead, he found an excuse to usher Harry out of the office. After leaving the Headmaster’s office, Harry returned to his dormitory. Sitting on his bed, he racked his brain, trying to figure out where the Chamber of Secrets could be. He thought about it all night, not sleeping a wink until morning. “Oh, Merlin,” Ron exclaimed. “Mate, your eye bags are pitch black.” “Yeah, like that panda in the Muggle zoo,” Seamus chimed in. “You need some rest, Harry.” Seamus glanced up at the calendar as he spoke. “Congrats, it’s Tuesday—but you’ll have to wait until the afternoon to catch a nap.” He was referring to History of Magic. After all, it’d be a shame not to sleep through Professor Binns’s class. That morning was a double Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Yawning, Harry trudged into the Great Hall, eating breakfast in a daze, his movements sluggish. He was carefully weighing the options he’d mulled over last night. Two plans lay before him. The first was to locate the Chamber of Secrets and eliminate the Basilisk. The upside was that it would swiftly neutralize the threat to Hogwarts. The downside was obvious: it would leave the diary lurking, ready to pop up like a groundhog and take a bite whenever it pleased. The second plan was to lure the snake out of its hole—make Voldemort, hiding in the shadows, believe Dumbledore had left the school and lifted the lockdown. The drawback? Harry worried Voldemort might unleash the Basilisk for a full-on rampage, plunging everything into chaos. Harry ate absentmindedly, only snapping out of it when a bitter taste filled his mouth. “Here,” Ron said, handing him a mirror. His shoulders shook as he struggled to suppress a laugh. Hermione was no better, covering her mouth and watching Harry with amused curiosity. Harry took the mirror and looked. His mouth was smeared black with ink. “Merlin’s beard, Harry,” Ron said, laughing dramatically. “We were calling you, and you didn’t even react. You kept dipping your chips in Percy’s ink bottle… What were you thinking about to get so lost?” “Ha…” Harry chuckled, but when he grinned, his teeth were pitch black from the ink. After cleaning himself up with a spell, he grabbed some ketchup instead. “Just some important stuff,” Harry said casually, not wanting to drag them into something so dangerous. “I was thinking about what to have you all do at the next Dueling Club meeting—” “Didn’t you say it’d be practical training?” Ron said with a grin. “The Unlimited Spell Tournament—or whatever it’s called? I’m excited.” “Hope you can still laugh when it happens,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes at Ron. Her woman’s intuition told her Harry was up to no good. Today’s Defense Against the Dark Arts was a double session with all four houses combined—two lessons rolled into one. After months of classes, everyone had come to appreciate Professor Lockhart’s skills. Strong, witty, handsome, and a celebrity author to boot—how could anyone not adore such a cool professor? As they settled into the classroom, students buzzed with excitement, chatting about what they might learn today. Everyone looked forward to Lockhart’s lessons. The curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post always loomed in their minds, dampening their spirits when they thought about next year’s professor—who might not be as brilliant as Lockhart. Just then, Professor Lockhart emerged from his office. Flashing his signature smile, he leaned against the railing, practically radiating charm. seaʀᴄh thё nôᴠel Fire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Back in the first lesson, some might’ve found it off-putting, but now? Hardly anyone minded. A powerful wizard with a quirky habit— wasn’t that perfectly normal? “Delighted to see you all again,” Lockhart said cheerfully, dangling from the railing. “It’s been… let’s see, a full week since I last taught you.” “I’ll be asking you a few questions today—about what we’ve covered recently,” he continued. “And a heads-up: if you get it wrong, I won’t hesitate to deduct points.” A collective groan rose from the students. “But,” Lockhart said, scanning the room, “if you answer correctly, I’ll award points to your house.” “Yes!” The class erupted in cheers. Not just deductions—points too? That made it all better. “Here we go—no need to raise your hands. I’m spot-checking your progress randomly,” Lockhart said. He craned his neck, picking his first victim. “Mr. Longbottom,” he said, approaching Neville, who’d been keeping his head down. “No need to be nervous. My question is… what type of spell do Inferi fear most?” Neville relaxed instantly. He’d been nervous, but this question? He’d seen Seamus deal with it firsthand—how could he forget that giant eyeball that made Malfoy scream? “Fire spells, Professor,” Neville answered clearly. Lockhart clapped his hands. “Well done, Mr. Longbottom, well done—two points to Gryffindor!” “Looks like Mr. Longbottom’s been reviewing,” Lockhart said with a smile, patting Neville’s shoulder as he sat down. “I’m pleased you’re revisiting what we’ve learned. As they say, revisiting old lessons brings new insights—I hope you’ll all keep that up.” “Next question… Mr. Nott,” Lockhart called, pointing to Theodore Nott from Slytherin. “Name three fire-based spells.” Without hesitation, Nott replied, “Incendio, Confringo, and Bombarda, Professor.” “Excellent, a perfect answer, Mr. Nott. Sit down—two points to Slytherin,” Lockhart said, nodding. He called on another student. “Miss Abbott, tell me the characteristics of an Erkling.” Hannah Abbott stood up confidently. “Erklings are elf-like creatures, larger than goblins, averaging three feet tall with pointed faces. They love the taste of children and use their shrill cackling to mesmerize kids, luring them away from their guardians to eat them.” “Very good,” Lockhart said, gesturing for her to sit. “Well done, Miss Abbott—two points to Hufflepuff.” “Now, Mr. Boot,” Lockhart said, signaling Terry Boot from Ravenclaw to stand. “How do you deal with an Erkling?” “Any offensive spell, Professor,” Terry replied. “Erklings are fragile—even Muggle physical attacks can overpower them. According to Mr. Scamander’s , in the last recorded Erkling attack, one went after a six-year-old boy named Bruno Schmidt. Bruno smashed it dead with his father’s collapsible cauldron.” At the mention of Scamander, Lockhart’s mouth twitched. The students assumed it was scholarly rivalry and didn’t think much of it, chuckling good-naturedly. “Well done,” Lockhart said with a huff. “Mr. Scamander is indeed an expert on magical creatures, but I’d rather not hear his name in my classroom—Ravenclaw gets one point.” The laughter grew louder, even Hermione joining in. She’d lost her share of points to Snape for showing off—seeing someone else docked for the same thing was oddly satisfying. Lockhart fired off a few more questions before returning to the front of the room. “I’m pleased to see you’ve all grasped the material well,” he said. “It shows you’re not just listening in class but reviewing what you’ve learned—a commendable attitude for students.” “For that, I’m awarding five points to each house,” he added. The room fell silent for a moment. Then it exploded into enthusiastic cheers. Harry clapped halfheartedly, thinking, “Now, let’s move on to today’s lesson,” Lockhart said. “I’m going to introduce you to a creature previously thought extinct but recently rediscovered.” The words “thought extinct” piqued everyone’s interest. Lockhart opened a wardrobe, revealing a creature that looked like a giant toad with a haystack on its back. “Anyone know what this is?” Lockhart asked with a grin. No one raised a hand—not even Hermione, the resident know-it-all. “No one?” Lockhart asked, raising an eyebrow. “I do, Professor,” Harry said. Lockhart looked surprised but nodded. “Go ahead, Mr. Potter.” Harry nodded back. “I’ve read about this creature before. It’s called a Moke, right?” Lockhart’s expression turned to genuine astonishment. “I’m impressed, Harry,” he said. “I never thought a young wizard at Hogwarts today would recognize a Moke.” “Know anything else about it?” he asked, intrigued. “Sorry, Professor,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Even so, that’s impressive enough,” Lockhart said, clapping. “Five points to Gryffindor—for Mr. Potter’s vast knowledge!” The Gryffindors burst into applause, cheering for Harry’s points. “Let me clarify,” Lockhart said with a smile. “This magical creature was once believed extinct. Moke tongues are valuable alchemical ingredients—but their extinction wasn’t due to that. I once heard a rumor during my travels that a Hogwarts transfer student, enraged by a Moke, wiped them out in a fit of anger…” Harry: He knew the story—more like lived it. Out in the wild once, when Veratia twisted her ankle, Harry was rubbing her foot when a clueless Moke interrupted his massage. Furious, Veratia held a grudge against Mokes, even teaching herself flight magic to scour England, hunting down every one she could find. Harry had no idea why Veratia’s temper flared so much over it. In his memory, she’d always been gentle, patient, and kind. But the class didn’t know the truth. They stared at Lockhart, their faces a mix of confusion and awe. --- Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon: pat reon .com/windkaze