Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle

Lockhart glanced at the glass bottle and sat down at the desk with a grin. "I saw the drama club rehearsing when I arrived. You know, they're planning to use Sir Cadogan's experience as a play. It's about a foolish knight who was supposed to die at the hands of a dragon, but by chance he stabs the dragon's tonsils, causing the bipedal dragon to choke and trigger an explosion of its breath."

Melvin returned to his desk and sat down, poured him a cup of black tea, and motioned for him to continue.

"The old-fashioned story of praising courage through reckless action is quite boring, don't you think?" Lockhart sneered, then brought up his own story. "My adventures are completely different. I deal with different monsters in a different way, using wisdom, courage and magic."

Before Melvin could be persuaded, he became excited himself. The steam from the hot tea curled up, and Lockhart's face flushed. "If it were adapted into a TV series and put on film, it would surely be a big hit, Melvin. A wizard like you would surely see the potential of these stories, right?"

Melvin shook his teacup, his face hidden behind the smoke. "Well, Professor Lockhart, we've talked about this before. You know, it's a bit difficult."

"I know I know!"

Lockhart impatiently pulled two small glass bottles from his pocket. "I've got Madam Edgecombe helping me at the Ministry. I need your detailed memories of your adventures, and I've been working on that ever since our last conversation. You're right, there's a lot of information that's inconvenient to share, so I've made some cuts and modifications based on your footage from last year. Look at this!"

The glass bottle is bright silver with a pearly luster, floating lightly like suspended mist, and flowing like liquid.

Melvin glanced at the glass bottle containing the memory, then looked at Lockhart, who was smiling, with a strange look in his eyes.

It is certain that this is definitely not Lockhart's memory, but the experience he stole from real warriors in remote areas. No wonder Lockhart seemed particularly quiet in the past two months and did not make any eye-catching movements. It turned out that he was busy stealing memories.

"Okay, let's take a look first..."

Melvin reached out and summoned the shadow mirror, placing one of the memories into it.

Silver mist surged, and a snow-shrouded village appeared in the mirror image. The background sound was the crying of children. Through the conversations of several passing wizards, the topic of the wreaking havoc of the yeti was introduced. Then the scene changed, and Lockhart appeared in the snow, smiling brightly...

A standard adventure story, Lockhart made the film based on last year's footage and even added background music. However, as an amateur wizard making a movie for the first time, many of the shots looked rough and crude, and the background music was very sentimental and stiff.

What is surprising is that the false memory created by Lockhart is flawless, and there is no trace of splicing and editing. If Melvin didn't know that the protagonist was someone else, he would be deceived by this memory.

"Gilderoy Lockhart indeed."

Melvin exclaimed in amazement: "If you ask me, you are really suitable for this job, Professor Lockhart."

"It's just a reference," Lockhart said modestly, with a sincere and brilliant smile.

"I'll gather the Magic Mirror Club members to review the film as soon as possible, but you know how efficient the bar owner is. The earliest we can do it is Easter in April." Melvin delayed in a seemingly ambiguous manner.

Lockhart took a sip of the black tea and felt a warm current flowing all the way to the bottom of his heart, burning and comfortable, as if he could already see fame and fortune beckoning to him.

"Professor Lockhart..."

Melvin's fingertips curled around the glass bottle in his hand. "I wonder if you've heard the riddle I left on the door of the Ravenclaw common room?"

"You mean the Ship of Theseus?"

Lockhart was stunned, trying to figure out how to make up some lies to get by. "Although I had a legendary water adventure while sailing with vampires, and I know sailors and boatmen very well, Muggle and wizard ships are different. Wizard ships are more complicated to repair. The Ship of Theseus you mentioned..."

"It's not about the ship."

Melvin couldn't help but interrupt. He couldn't understand how such a wizard had gotten past the scrutiny of the senior editors at the publishing house. "This ship is merely symbolic, inspired by Nick's death anniversary party. If the ghost's personality is completely different from when they were alive, how can we guarantee that their souls are still the same?"

"Oh!" Lockhart showed a look of surprise, then put on the airs of an expert. "This is similar to what I thought in my book 'Breaking with the Ghost'. Some ghosts and ghosts have extreme personalities, and special methods are needed to deal with them."

"..."

Melvin had no intention of correcting his nonsense: "What I mean is, if the ship of Theseus can be replaced and the soul of a ghost can be changed, then can a person's memory change his essence?"

"I do not quite understand."

Lockhart frowned, finally giving up his expert attitude.

"As we all know, each person's unique experiences form unique memories. These unique pasts have shaped who we are today. Experiences and memories bring us knowledge, influence our way of thinking, and shape our character..."

Melvin's tea was steaming. "Professor Lockhart, if the memories that have a crucial influence on our personality are replaced, will we change?"

Lockhart fell into deep thought, the smile on his face faded, he picked up the teacup and put it down again, repeating this action several times.

Melvin said slowly, "When I was at Ilvermorny, I was scared by a classmate hiding in the attic. So every time I go upstairs or turn a corner, I pay extra attention to whether there are people in my blind spot. If I replace the experience of being scared by a classmate, will I still keep this habit?"

Lockhart looked at Melvin, and something flashed in his dark eyes, eager encouragement or ambiguous question?

He couldn't tell clearly.

As a wizard who was good at, and only good at, the Forgetfulness Spell, he could clearly hear his heart beating faster, and some thoughts he had never had before emerged in his mind.

"Going further..." Melvin paused, "If Dumbledore is willing to share his memories with me, and I voluntarily abandon some of my memories, will I become a wizard like Dumbledore?"

Lockhart took a sip of his red tea and his heart beat even faster.

He didn't have Dumbledore's memories, but he had other memories, many memories of the brave.

Replacing memories is a very troublesome thing. If you are not careful, it will mess up the wizard's brain and affect his self-cognition, but Lockhart happens to be proficient in memory magic.

He couldn't help but fantasize that if he had their memories, he would no longer be the fake adventurer who deceived his readers, but a real hero and a professor who enjoyed the admiration of his students.

"I suddenly remembered something important. Come back next time, Melvin!" Lockhart almost ran away, forgetting to close the office door.

Melvin looked at the open door, picked up the black tea and took a sip. The lingering steam on the table finally dissipated, and he revealed an expectant look.

……

On Monday morning, a cold wind howled across the field.

Before the bell rang, students had already rushed into the classroom, closed the windows, and used the fireplace to keep out the biting cold.

The second period of the morning was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry thought the class was terrible, even worse than the one Quirrell had taught the previous year.

Lockhart was unable to complete his normal teaching, so the classroom became his stage to brag and perform. The nearly ten textbooks were his scripts, and Harry almost became the golden supporting role in the classroom.

Lockhart wants to tell the story of traveling with a ghoul, and he is the weak and silent ghoul.

Lockhart was to perform Holiday with a Hag, and he was the screaming Hag, and halfway through the term he had already performed as a ghost, a troll, a vampire, and a werewolf.

The only character worth naming was the snow monster, because Lockhart planned to save that book for when the snow fell, saying that the cold atmosphere would be easier to get into.

As the bell rang, Harry saw Lockhart walk into the classroom.

Lockhart was still wearing his sky blue robe, but with a cashmere sweater underneath. His expression was calm, and he didn't pretend to be kind, but rather looked much more pleasing to the eye. He had a thick book tucked under his arm, and judging from the words on the spine, it was the book "A Year with the Snowman".

Lockhart seemed to have noticed his gaze, turned his head, thought for a moment, and smiled brightly.

"Harry...it's so nice to see you."

"Good morning, Professor."

Harry was a little confused about what he meant. He watched him walk up to the podium, then turned to his two friends and said, "Do you think Lockhart seems different today?"

"It's definitely different." Ron narrowed his eyes and said thoughtfully.

"Ok?"

"You get to play the snow monster today!"

"..."

Harry moved aside, a little further away from the guy. He was worried that when he played the snow monster and went crazy, he would not be able to help but kick him.

"I wonder if the monster in the secret room is a snow monster? It would be great if it was one of the types in the book. There are ready-made methods to deal with them, but they don't have bright yellow eyes."

Hermione beside her grumbled softly.

Harry said nothing.

In the past few weeks of investigation, they have found nothing. They have collected all the clues that can be collected, but there is still no useful information. Dobby has not appeared again. Hermione has been reasoning and calculating in her notebook whenever she has free time, and she is a little crazy.

"Boom...boom..."

Lockhart tapped his lectern twice, drawing the class's attention. "Good morning, students."

The little wizards in the classroom looked at each other, confused about what was going on.

Lockhart looked at the bewildered expressions on the students' faces, and as if sensing their vibrant vitality, he couldn't help but smile. This smile wasn't perfect, but it was kind.

"I've already told you about several dark creatures. I originally planned to leave the snow monster for after it snows, outdoors, but after thinking about it, it's too cold. So I'm going to tell you about it before it snows. I hope you can review it after it snows..."

The classroom gradually became quiet.

Lockhart isn't performing a play today?

Harry couldn't help but frown. This kind of Lockhart was particularly unfamiliar, with an old-fashioned air, different from the old-fashioned air of Dumbledore. He spoke slowly and moved slowly, like Old Tom from the Leaky Cauldron.

"Wendys usually appear in extremely cold areas, in the Himalayas. When it's coldest, it's even colder than Hogwarts when it's snowing. No one goes out at night, not even to the toilet. They just do it in the house. Do you know why?" Lockhart asked.

Seamus in the back row took the initiative to speak: "Why?"

"Because it's cold, so unbearable. If you leave your fingers exposed, the cold wind will blow them into cheese candies in just ten minutes."

"What do you mean?"

"It breaks into pieces if you bend it lightly."

"Huh~"

The young wizards couldn't help but shudder when they thought of such a scene, and it also piqued their interest and made them listen attentively.

"It was on snowy nights like that that the Yeti appeared. It could be up to 15 feet tall, with light-colored fur. It lay on the ground, blending in with the snow. From a distance, you couldn't see anything clearly, like a small snowdrift. When someone approached, it suddenly jumped up, and even a dozen wizards couldn't stop it..."

There was silence in the classroom.

Lockhart's class was completely different. It used to be boring role-playing, full of empty self-praise and without any real content. But now it suddenly changed. The self-praise content disappeared, and the scenes were detailed and specific, as if the villagers who had lived in the snow village for decades were telling the story themselves, bringing that world out of the book.

The two-hour class seemed to be over in the blink of an eye. The students were immersed in the mountain village shrouded in snow and wind, and in the shadow brought by the snow monster. It was exciting and novel.

"Okay, get out of class is almost over."

Lockhart closed the book and took out his wand. "I'll show you a little snowflake magic trick. Watch...snowflakes falling."

As the whole class watched, he waved his wand and shook it, but nothing happened.

Lockhart frowned, looking puzzled as well, and carefully examined the wand in his hand. It seemed that something was wrong with the wand.

Just as he was about to try again, the bell rang.

Lockhart waved his hand: "Let's stop here then. We'll continue in the next class!"

The students filed out of the classroom. Harry, with unusual patience, waited for the other students to leave. He turned to look at his two friends, who stared at each other without blinking.

Chapter 143 Self-awareness

At noon, in the auditorium.

Melvin also finished his morning classes and went downstairs with several sixth-grade students, talking about the upcoming Christmas vacation as they walked. After arriving at the auditorium, the young wizards ran to their respective long tables, and the professors of the elective courses came to sit in the guest seats.

In the absence of the headmaster, Melvin chatted with Professors Flitwick, Sprout and Barbling as usual. The topic revolved around the Theseus puzzle left at the door of Ravenclaw Tower that night. Several professors had different opinions, and the topic could be extended to other areas.

Professor McGonagall mainly listened, occasionally expressing her own opinions, while Snape remained silent, unwilling to waste time on philosophical speculation that had no answers.