Chapter 184 I, a Living Legend!
"That student over there, stop!"
Filch's coarse voice echoed in the corridor. The student who was shouted at froze on the spot like a quail, listening to the caretaker drone on.
"Filch is so irritable right now..."
In the corridor, the twins put on harmless expressions, communicating with their eyes.
"Don't make a sound. Filch hates our guts right now!" George returned the look.
The two of them even held their breath, terrified of provoking the current Filch—the caretaker was practically unhinged.
After managing to escape that corridor while the unlucky scapegoat was being lectured, the pair let out a long breath in unison.
"We survived—"
"Yes, Fred."
Leaning against the wall, they continued, "I think Filch is about to lose it! He's working day and night now. That guy Jordan almost got caught last night—doesn't Filch need to sleep?"
"Who knows? He's got that cat as a helper, after all—but if this keeps up, either the man or the cat is going to have a breakdown."
"Who do you think was so bold? To actually hang Filch from a windowsill? And they haven't been caught yet?"
"Who knows? Luckily, we were dealing with dragon dung and were supervised the entire time. Otherwise, I don't think we could have escaped suspicion—if they can't catch the real culprit, maybe Filch would be satisfied just by having us expelled?"
"You never know."
George replied with a smile, "We should get going. We still have detention to serve today."
"At this rate, we'll be spending our Christmas holiday in detention," Fred grumbled. "But we have the holiday to thank. We still have a month of detention left. I'd go crazy without these two weeks off."
"So, going to see Bill?"
"Of course we're staying at school—this is a rare chance to enjoy campus life without being in detention!" Fred responded in an exaggerated tone.
"You want to investigate?" George asked suddenly.
"Don't you?"
"Of course I do! Professor William is really generous. The seventh-years said that for whoever catches the perpetrator, Professor William will get them a recommendation letter directly from Dumbledore!"
George thought for a moment, still a bit uncertain. "The reward is tempting, but that's only for the seventh-years."
"We've even worn the Diadem. If we catch the guy, do you think he'd go back on his word? Just think, with that recommendation letter, Mom wouldn't nag us for at least three years about spending all day researching weird things."
"Sounds good to me."
George raised his hand and slapped it against Fred's.
---
"The Christmas holiday is almost here, William. Relax a little!"
In the Staff Room, Adams called out to William, who was holed up at a corner table, while handing out candied fruit.
*In theory, I should be relaxing. It's a short Christmas holiday—* William forced a smile. "Okay!"
*But I can't shake the feeling this is just like Ginny killing the roosters!*
During the recent investigation, despite Professor McGonagall mobilizing all the portraits, gathering the idle students, and arranging for professors to investigate the two incident locations, they had found nothing.
Even Filch getting Dumbledore's approval to expel the perpetrator upon capture was useless—because they couldn't find anyone.
*The same lack of clues, the same lack of leads—is this really okay?*
William pondered as he casually popped a piece of candied fruit into his mouth.
*But all the students who wore the Diadem have been checked. None of them had time to commit the crime; they all have alibis.*
*At my suspicion, Headmaster Dumbledore even investigated the professors who wore the Diadem. No one had the time to hang Filch on the castle wall.*
*But it was definitely Ginny who killed the chickens. We even saw her near Hagrid's hut, but this time she has an alibi, too!*
*Who is it? What are they trying to do? The chicken blood was for a ritual—was hanging Filch one too? The Hanged Man?*
*Ugh, ptooey—so bitter!*
William subconsciously spat out the candied fruit in his mouth—what kind of madman makes candied bitter melon?
---
"Filch has lost his mind."
"Poor Professor Lockhart. So this is your grand method for diverting the caretaker's attention? Such a crude, unoriginal trick?"
"Never you mind. He's certainly searching for any student who could have done this like a madman now," Lockhart wrote peacefully in his diary.
He had single-handedly managed to blindside the castle's caretaker and used the incident to completely shift the caretaker's focus from the school's secret passages to the students. At least until the rumors of Filch wetting his trousers in mid-air died down, the caretaker definitely wouldn't have the excess mental energy for anything else.
"Alright, you despicable Professor Lockhart. You've successfully captured the caretaker's attention. While not particularly clever, the effect is just as good."
The words that appeared in the diary were slow and neat. "Now you should be able to enjoy that epoch-making discovery all to yourself. Find it, open it, and then embellish the story, just as you've always done, and become a 'legend' in your new story."
"Of course. I am a living legend," Lockhart said, not even lifting his quill. He first admired himself in a photograph. Although this diary tried to mock him at every turn, it really did offer some fantastic suggestions at critical moments.
*It's just missing something.*
He looked at the words in the diary and, for the first time, had the thought that he wasn't so bad himself.
After a moment's thought, he began to write in the diary with his beautiful quill. "Foolish. Stop trying to give me advice on matters you're not good at—do you have any idea what makes a legendary story?"
His quill flew across the page. "Discovering a secret left behind by Slytherin, and that's it?"
"You think my readers would like such a story? You think The Daily Prophet would like such a story?"
"No one understands legendary stories better than I do!"
"No one gets hurt, there's no danger or mystery. So what if it was something Slytherin left behind? The story's gimmick isn't even as appealing as a countryside wizard driving out a vampire!"
Lockhart wrote rapidly, his quill brandished with flair. He felt that this very moment was the best he'd had in the past year. Countless inspirations gushed forth in his mind, piece by piece forming the truly great story he imagined.
"Doesn't Slytherin hate Muggles? Then let's add that in!"
"We can even have all the Muggle-borns in the castle expelled—no, no, no, expulsion has no dramatic flair. Killing, yes, killing!"
"A death threat against Muggle-born wizards—nothing could be more appealing than that!"
"My readers will absolutely love this story!"
"Foolish Professor Lockhart, you overestimate yourself. You can't do it," the diary continued to retort, but right now its rebuttal was utterly insignificant, which only made Lockhart happier. After having this book for so long, this was the first time he had completely dominated it.
*I will be a legend. This time, Order of Merlin, First Class, here I come!*
P.S. My ability to function after midnight is terrifyingly bad...
(end of chapter)