Hagrid's mouth opened and a pained expression crossed his face.
Dumbledore walked over, his voice very soft.
"That was because of Tom Riddle's framing."
Charlie turned his head, looking at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore pushed up his glasses, his gaze holding a hint of remembrance.
"Fifty years ago, the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets was opened, and a girl died in the restroom."
"Tom Riddle was a student at the time; he found the true Chamber of Secrets and also found the Basilisk."
"But he needed a scapegoat."
Dumbledore looked at Hagrid.
"Hagrid had just been raising an Acromantula at that time."
When speaking of the Acromantula, Dumbledore's gaze met Charlie's, with a profound meaning in his eyes.
Charlie's expression remained unchanged.
Why are you looking at me? I don't raise spiders.
"Tom then pinned the blame on Hagrid, saying that Hagrid's spider had killed the person."
Dumbledore withdrew his gaze and continued.
"The Principal at the time, Dippet, pushed Hagrid out to quell public opinion."
"Hagrid was expelled, his wand was broken, and he was even imprisoned in Azkaban."
Hagrid hung his head, his shoulders slumped.
Being misunderstood for so long was not an easy thing for the big man... The Christmas holiday passed quickly.
Charlie returned to the Orphanage once, bringing gifts for Grandma White and the little rascals.
Grandma White was very happy to receive the gifts and held Charlie's hand, talking for a long time.
At the end of the holiday, Charlie returned to Hogwarts.
On the first day of the new term, students chatted animatedly in the Great Hall.
"When do you think the next Duelling Club will open?"
"I can't wait; I want to learn the new moves Charlie taught."
"When I went home, I showed my dad what I learned last term, and he couldn't even react; I just threw a handful of ash."
It was a grand display of filial piety.
"No wonder you kept clutching your bottom; you got a beating, didn't you?"
Everyone was looking forward to the new Duelling Club, wondering what Charlie would teach.
But to everyone's disappointment, there was no news of the Duelling Club for the next few weeks.
In the days since school started, Lockhart had been completely deflated.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, Professor Lockhart would misread his own book, as if he hadn't slept well the night before.
Sometimes he would hastily end the class, letting the students study on their own.
However, no one really cared about Professor Lockhart's state; they wouldn't learn anything in his class anyway.
That evening, Harry went to Professor Lockhart's office for detention as usual.
He knocked on the door, and it opened; Professor Lockhart was sitting behind his desk, which was piled high with parchment.
"Oh, Harry." Professor Lockhart looked up.
"Come in."
Harry walked in, looking at the parchment.
It was covered in crooked writing, with many places crossed out.
"Professor, what are you writing?" Harry asked.
Professor Lockhart paused. "Oh, nothing."
He stuffed the parchment into a drawer.
"Just dealing with some work matters."
Harry sat down and picked up a quill.
"Professor, when will the Duelling Club open again?"
If he didn't really want to know, Harry wouldn't have wanted to talk much with Professor Lockhart. Being with Professor Lockhart, he would always ramble about his past glories, and Harry was almost sick of hearing it.
But Harry was looking forward to the next Duelling Club even more, so he could thoroughly crush Malfoy again.
So, for once, he took the initiative to speak to Professor Lockhart.
"Duelling Club?" Professor Lockhart revealed a knowing smile.
"Oh, I've been too busy recently and haven't had time to host it. What's wrong? Is everyone looking forward to my Duelling Club?"
Professor Lockhart's smile grew brighter.
"Are you all eager to learn my powerful dueling techniques?"
Harry felt a little regretful and was about to speak when Professor Lockhart continued.
"Speaking of which, I once encountered a Dark Wizard in Egypt whose dueling skills were incredibly powerful, but I..."
Harry quickly interrupted him.
"Professor, let's start replying to letters."
Professor Lockhart closed his mouth, his smile a little stiff.
"Oh, right, replying to letters."
Harry picked up a quill and began to reply to Professor Lockhart's fan mail.
The desk was piled high with letters, all sent by fans.
Harry replied to them one by one, but the remaining letters didn't seem to diminish at all.
He looked up and glanced out the window.
It was completely dark now.
"Professor, there are too many of these letters," Harry said.
"I can't possibly reply to them all by myself."
Professor Lockhart was dozing off; when Harry woke him, his eyes were blank.
After a moment, he came to his senses and rubbed his eyes.
"There are quite a few indeed."
He stood up and stretched.
"Tomorrow I'll go find Professor McGonagall and ask her to send another student for detention."
The next day, Professor Lockhart knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door.
Professor McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, quill in hand, grading assignments.
"Professor Lockhart."
She looked up, her tone somewhat impatient; after the torment of last term, she was quite fed up with Professor Lockhart.
"Is there something you need?"
Professor Lockhart walked in, a smile on his face.
"Professor McGonagall, I would like to ask for your help."
Professor McGonagall put down her quill.
"Speak."
"Could you send another student for detention to help? You know, I have so much to do, and Harry can't handle it alone."
Professor McGonagall stared at him, suspicion in her eyes.
"Professor Lockhart, detention is not for helping you reply to fan mail."
Professor Lockhart's smile faltered a little.
"I know, I know," he said.
"But this is also part of education, isn't it?"
"Teaching students how to communicate with people is an important skill."
Professor McGonagall sighed.
"Currently, the only student in detention who hasn't been assigned yet is Charlie White."
Professor Lockhart's smile froze.
Charlie.
He was almost getting PTSD from that name.
"Are there no other students?"
Professor McGonagall was not very pleased with his reaction. How dare you have an opinion about Charlie?
"No, there aren't."
Professor Lockhart opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back.
He took a deep breath, forcing a smile.
"Alright, then it will be Charlie."
Professor McGonagall nodded.
"I will have him come to your office tonight."
-------------------------------
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