Hogwarts' Golden Glory

He collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious!

Lockhart fell to the ground like a log, and through his blurred vision, he saw a pair of gleaming dragon-skin boots.

Snape looked down at him, his dark eyes full of mockery: "You run fast, Gilderoy. Looks like your 'Break with the Ghost' will have to be rewritten as 'Break with Hogwarts'?"

Lockhart's cheek was pressed against the cold stone floor, and the tips of Snape's dragon-skin boots were pressed against his ribs.

He heard rustling footsteps coming from all directions—it seemed that all the students of Hogwarts were gathering here.

"I...I just wanted to evacuate the students!" Lockhart struggled to lift his head, his blond hair covered in dust. "Danger! A monster in the locked room—"

"—Is it baring its fangs and claws in the story you've fabricated?"

Sparks flew from the tip of Snape's wand, illuminating a corner of the Portkey peeking out of Lockhart's pocket.

"The Vienna Grand Hotel? What a pity, Gilderoy, your vacation plans will have to be postponed."

Meanwhile, in the girls' washroom on the second floor.

The old headmaster's wand remained motionless, but its tip flashed with a warning light: "The situation has changed."

His gaze swept over the approaching, noisy footsteps at the end of the corridor. "We can't let all the students know where the entrance is."

The air between them seemed to freeze.

Kane narrowed his grey-blue eyes slightly, then suddenly sneered, "Then let's put on a show."

His wand traced intricate patterns in the air, and a silver-blue light enveloped the cave entrance. "Illusion Charm. Anyone who walks past will only see the ordinary floor."

Dumbledore nodded slightly and flicked the Elder Wand.

The tunnel in front of them had been restored to its original state.

Only Myrtle floated in mid-air, covering her mouth and chuckling to herself.

"Remember, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, "there are some secrets—"

"The fewer people who know, the better," Kane replied, quickly retreating to the sink and pretending to have just washed his hands.

At that very moment, Harry, Harry, and his friends burst through the door.

"There really is a secret room!" Ron's exclamation echoed in the bathroom. His red hair stood on end like flames, and his eyes widened. "Where's the entrance? George said it must be in—"

His voice abruptly stopped.

The three of them stood frozen in place, facing only an ordinary girls' restroom: a dripping faucet, a mottled mirror, and slightly moldy cubicle doors. Even Mockingjay pretended to be obedient, floating above the water tank.

"There's nothing there?" Ron looked around, scratching his head in confusion. "Is that Lockhart idiot spouting nonsense again?"

Harry stared at the washstand—one tile there was a shade lighter than the rest, with a few glistening ice crystals still clinging to its edge.

His scar suddenly stung.

"No," Harry said softly, "there may have been something."

Hermione's gaze swept back and forth between Dumbledore and Kane.

She noticed the way the two of them were exchanging glances—she felt they were getting a little too close.

"Professor," Hermione suddenly spoke up, "what are you and Malfoy doing here?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Let's discuss some...curricular arrangements." He gestured to Kane. "Mr. Malfoy's treatise on Defense Against the Dark Arts is very insightful."

Kane's lips twitched, and with a forced smile, he pulled a roll of parchment from his pocket.

Ron rolled his eyes: "Come on, Malfoy is such a studious person—"

"Watch out!" Harry suddenly shouted.

Ron was stepping onto the tiles in front of him.

At the critical moment, Kane's wand trembled almost imperceptibly, and Ron was pulled as if by an invisible hand, staggering to the side and narrowly avoiding the danger zone.

"Merlin's stinky socks!" Ron scrambled to his feet, patting the water stains off his robes. "Why is this floor so slippery!"

Dumbledore's gaze briefly met Kane's, and both read a warning in each other's eyes. The old headmaster coughed softly. "I think you should return to Gryffindor Tower, children. What happened tonight..."

"It's a misunderstanding," Kane replied smoothly, his fingers discreetly wiping away the scale marks on the sole of his boot. "Professor Lockhart was clearly...overly nervous."

Hermione suddenly walked up to the light-colored tile, took the hair clip off her hair, and threw it down.

The hairpin pierced the ground silently, as if it were just a phantom.

"Professor!" she exclaimed, "There's something here—"

"—The pipes need repair," Dumbledore interrupted her gently but firmly.

With a wave of his wand, the hair clip bounced back from the intact tile gap. "The house-elf will come to take care of it tomorrow."

Harry stared into Kane's eyes: "What are you hiding?"

The air froze instantly.

Suddenly, Myrtle let out a shrill laugh: "They're going to die~ they're going to die~ just like me~"

Kane's expression turned somewhat grim. "Don't think you can spout nonsense just because you're dead."

Dumbledore stepped forward: "Harry, some dangers should not be borne by students."

His blue eyes were sharper than ever before. "Go back to the dorm, now."

A commotion suddenly broke out at the end of the corridor.

Professors and students are all rushing over here.

Professor McGonagall's emerald green robe appeared first around the corner, followed by a group of teachers and curious students.

The flickering candlelight reflected off her square glasses, and her lips were pressed into a tight line.

"Albus?" McGonagall's voice was filled with rapid breathing.

Lockhart was screaming like a madwoman in the Great Hall about the monster in the locked room—"Her gaze swept over the intact bathroom, her eyebrows almost flying off her hairline, "There's...nothing here?"

Snape led Lockhart into the room, his dark eyes scanning every inch of the floor with keen insight.

His wand suddenly pointed at the light-colored tile: "Show!"—but the tile didn't budge, not even a crack appeared.

"Clearly," Snape's voice was laced with venom, "our Defense Strategy professor is giving himself another performance."

The students crowded at the door let out disappointed sighs.

Seamus Finigan stood on tiptoe to look: "I told you Lockhart was a fraud!"

"But he was covered in mud just now!" Dean Thomas retorted.

Hermione suddenly pushed her way to the front: "Professor! I suggest using a Dark Magic Detector to check—"

"Enough, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall interrupted her.

Lockhart's eyes darted around frantically.

"All students, return to your dormitories immediately!" McGonagall's voice was as firm as steel. "This is not a drill!"

"Quiet!" Snape's roar lashed through the air like a whip.

He grabbed Lockhart by the collar and lifted him up. "This...professor needs to explain his midnight run."

Lockhart's lips trembled.

Suddenly, he broke free from Snape's grasp and staggered toward the cave entrance: "I saw it with my own eyes! It's right here!"

He pointed to the washbasin. "A tunnel! There's a tunnel—"