Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Water Margin

Chapter 97 A Matter of Life and Death, A Sordid Deed

Chapter 98 A Matter of Life and Death, A Sordid Deed

Picking up where we left off, Lockhart was truly at a loss when he heard that Harry wanted him to tell him three important things.

Three things?

What three things?

How come I didn't know that!

He wanted to ask, but hesitated, unable to speak. His lips moved for a moment before he nervously said:

"Should I...shouldn't I use your name to promote myself?"

Listen, dear reader: It turns out that after resigning from his job at Christmas, this guy stayed at home writing a book called "Hogwarts: Professor Lockhart the Ranger".

It contained a great deal of self-aggrandizement and fabricated numerous events. It also employed a subtle and euphemistic approach, attributing the conflict between Harry and Snape in the lesson entirely to its own mediation.

Harry ordered him to fetch some draft paper, took it, glanced at it, and frowned repeatedly.

I have to say, the fight between Harry and Snape was intense, and it even affected the students around them...

I didn't say a word, not even a single syllable, I just frowned, and soon they both stopped...

The words on this paper are definitely fake. Harry snorted coldly, "I knew you weren't a hero! What you say and what you write are nothing but lies!"

Having said that, he tore the paper into pieces.

Upon seeing this, Lockhart let out a heart-wrenching cry, "No!"

He was about to rush to his aid when he heard a sharp "sound" as Harry suddenly drew his knife. The flash of the blade made Lockhart's legs go weak and his mind went blank. He quickly stopped in his tracks.

Harry sat with his foot on his hand, saying, "That's not what I want to hear!"

"If you scoundrel don't confess the truth, don't blame me for chopping off your head and using it as a chamber pot!"

Lockhart felt a chill run down his spine upon hearing Harry's harsh words, and his heart was in turmoil. Fearing that Harry would once again use that unpredictable lightning spell, he dared not hide anything anymore.

He swallowed hard and stammered, "Okay, I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have—stole other people's stories—and attributed them to myself."

Once this incredibly sordid scheme was spoken, it was as if a little devil had entered the Sanqing Temple, and instantly his three souls and seven spirits were scattered.

With a gurgling sound in his throat, his limbs went limp and he collapsed to the ground as if all his tendons had been pulled out. His noodles were a mixture of green and white, and cold sweat poured from his forehead like a torrent, just like a snowman splashed with boiling water, instantly turning into a puddle of mud.

Lockhart's eyes were glazed over, but he was not giving up. He struggled to pull out the gold and silver coins from his pocket and threw them all at Harry.

"Please, Harry, don't tell anyone. I don't want this to happen—but all I know is the Oblivion Charm!"

"If you're willing to keep this a secret, you can have all my money and my house! I can even give you half of my future royalties!"

"No! We'll split it 70/30! You get 70%!"

Harry learned that he had used a fake to impersonate the real Kui and had humiliated him with gold and silver, so he had intended to give him a quick death, but now he would have to cut him down slowly with a sharp knife.

The scarred man leaped to his feet, roaring angrily, "You filthy scoundrel! You stole the heroic deeds of the great men, changed the ink and paper to pass them off as your own; you stripped the merits of the heroes, gilded and silvered them to pretend you were invincible!"

"Today I will slaughter you, you treacherous beast who deceives the world and steals fame! I will restore the reputation of all heroes under heaven!"

Upon hearing this, Salazar, who was in his arms, stopped pretending to be inanimate and said, "Harry, let me finish asking questions before you kill him."

Harry ignored Salazar's words and thrust his ring knife straight at him.

As Lockhart watched the gleaming blade approaching, he felt the world change color, and his ears felt as if they were stuffed with ten pounds of cotton. No matter how loud the battle cries were, he couldn't hear a thing.

At this critical moment, Lockhart suddenly shouted:

"Wait! There's one more thing I haven't said!"

"I've already said two things! I have a third thing to say!"

"It's about the Malfoys! He even mentioned you!"

Before he could finish speaking, the tip of the knife was already pressed against his chest.

Harry paused, narrowed his eyes, and said, "How do you, a mere wretch, know about the Malfoy family's dealings?"

Lockhart felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, and only then did he come to his senses, panting heavily:

"Draco asked me to check on his cell so that I wouldn't be locked up with you."

"In return, he invited me to the Malfoy family estate so that I could find inspiration for my new book, 'The Men Behind the Malfoys.'"

Harry sneered, "No wonder Malfoy and I are in separate rooms; it turns out it was you who caused this trouble."

Lockhart didn't dare to answer, and continued to say to himself, "At Christmas, I went to Malfoy Manor and unexpectedly saw Draco writing a letter to someone."

"I don't know who he sent it to, I only saw in the letter that it said—be careful with your magical items."

Harry frowned upon hearing this. "What magical items do I possess? Are you referring to my White Frost Mithril Ringknife? And who is that fellow sending letters to?"

As he pondered this to himself, Salazar seized the opportunity and said, "Let me talk to him first, Harry."

Harry, preoccupied with Lockhart's words, paid no attention to anything else and pulled out a piece of drawing paper from his pocket, tossing it aside.

The drawing unfolded in mid-air, and Salazar stood with his hands behind his back, looking down at Lockhart, and said, "Hello, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart, we finally meet."

Lockhart looked terrified and struggled to take a few steps back. "Who...who are you?"

"Salazar Slytherin. The reason I sent Harry to you is to ask you a few questions."

When Narohart heard Salazar's name, it was as if a thunderbolt struck him from a clear sky; his ears rang like bells, and no matter what Salazar said afterward, not a single word entered his mind.

Salazar Slytherin? He's still alive!

Is it right for the founder of Slytherin to mingle with Gryffindor students?

He stared blankly at Slytherin, his mind racing with thoughts, and for a moment he was lost in thought.

This is one of the four giants from thousands of years ago. I wish I were the one who met him.

Hey, if "Walking with Salazar" were ever written, it would definitely be the number one bestseller in the entire wizarding world...

Salazar, noticing the man staring intently at him, narrowed his eyes and said, "Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart, are you deaf?"

"Oh! No, Mr. Slytherin, please speak. I simply... simply admire your esteemed name."

Salazar ignored him and asked, "Why did you plead for other non-wizard races in 'Me, the Man with Magic'?"

"Are you trying to cultivate a compassionate persona, or are you putting on an act for your mentally challenged followers?"

Lockhart paused, then said, "Because they're the ones who are more pitiful."

"Harry, kill him."

The sect, having finally met its fool, why plead for the sake of the foreign race? It wasn't hypocrisy or a show; it was a heart full of foolish compassion, a desire to pardon all races. But whether Lockhart lives or dies remains to be seen in the next chapter.

(End of this chapter)