For a long time, a saying had been circulating within Gryffindor House:

Any "put away your wands" command was never followed by a promising lesson. In this regard, whether it was History of Magic, Astronomy, Potions, or Defense Against the Dark Arts... without exception, they all corroborated this statement.

However, starting from the last semester, subtle changes began to occur.

With the practical component of Potions class gradually becoming richer, and the emergence of the "Hogwarts Calendar," most students were no longer so resistant to these two subjects. Of course, they didn't exactly express much liking for them either.

After all, learning through quills, ink, and parchment was never as interesting as waving a wand.

It wasn't until this day that the students suddenly realized that if the textbook content was interesting enough, they would read it even if the professor didn't actively ask them to, and when there was also an eloquent teacher in the classroom, the passage of time in the entire class was unbelievably fast.

"Alright, class is dismissed, everyone..."

Gilderoy Lockhart clapped his hands with some helplessness, repeating it for the third time.

"Lunchtime is almost starting, and I don't want to see Professor Dumbledore appear at the door, forcibly escorting me and everyone here to the Great Hall for a meal. If you have any further questions, please discuss them during breaks."

"But... Professor, what happened next? After you and the troll entered the cave to avoid the mudslide, then..."

Harry Potter's eyes sparkled with excitement, and he asked somewhat urgently.

Beside him, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and others also wore equally curious expressions. The young wizards crowded around the desk, surrounding the poor great writer, peppering him with questions about the stories that hadn't been finished in class.

The bell had rung almost ten minutes ago, but not a single student had left the classroom.

"I repeat once again, these are all fictional stories!"

Gilderoy Lockhart sighed helplessly, looking at the little ones gathered around the desk with a headache.

As a bestselling author, he had held several book signings in the past few years. For Lockhart, it was just telling stories in a different location. The only difference might be that from this class onwards, he no longer forcibly narrated other people's experiences as his own heroic deeds, but instead resigned himself to making things up out of thin air.

For example, in the original *Travels with Trolls*, it was just an ordinary short trip.

But as Gilderoy Lockhart let go of the burden, no longer emphasizing the authenticity of the story, and began to create on the spot in class based on it, the story became even more exciting. The troll's rich body language, the dramatic natural disasters, the unbelievable treasure hunts... for children of this age, it was simply fatally attractive.

"But, you wrote it! You have so many amazing experiences..."

Hannah Abbott looked at Lockhart with an adoring expression. Even though she had grown up in the Leaky Cauldron, she had never heard such thrilling, tense, and magical adventures. It was as if the legendary protagonist had appeared in reality.

Hermione Granger wasn't much better. After just one class, she had already written four or five pages of notes.

"Oh, books can be deceiving, children."

Lockhart glanced at the aloof-looking Elena and said quickly.

"Think about it carefully, I'm only twenty-eight years old this year, and I've written seven novels in ten years. Even if you don't consider the creation time, I would have had to start running around the world as soon as I graduated. Recall what I just said in class, artistic processing, at least half of it comes from imagination and creation."

"But, you did reach those places, right!"

Hermione Granger shook her head, opened the handbook she had prepared before class, and corrected seriously.

"Even if you haven't actually experienced some things, the stories you write in your books, whether in terms of logic or feasibility, have no problems. In other words, they can all exist as real guidance."

"Miss Granger, oh dear, you can't say that."

Gilderoy Lockhart felt cold sweat gradually seeping from his back, and he frowned and explained.

"It's not as simple as you say, I've repeatedly emphasized that people who look for realism in fictional stories must have something wrong with their heads. What I write is just a story based on fantasy, but what it will actually be like requires a lot, a lot of effort to draw a conclusion. What you need to learn is the writing style, not the story itself."

"In this school, there are many, many wizards who are better than me. If you are really interested in trolls, werewolves, vampires, banshees, then I suggest you leave your questions for Defense Against the Dark Arts, not language arts."

"Sigh, alright, alright... I understand, I didn't want this..."

Lockhart looked around at the little wizards still surrounding him and sighed again.

Then, he pulled out his wand and tapped it on the large blackboard behind him. Several rows of words immediately appeared on the blackboard.

[Language and Literature Class (Second Year)]

[This Week's Assignment: Please use the following elements to create a short essay on your own—troll, wizard, travel, friends, food, magic. The content in the text must have a strong connection with these elements; choose a good angle, define the style, create your own title; do not copy, do not plagiarize; no less than 800 words;]

"I sincerely apologize, children. I have to assign you an assignment. If you are really eager to know the rest of the story, then please use your quills to reflect it in your essay."

Gilderoy Lockhart tapped the blackboard again and said sternly, raising his voice.

"Now, everyone pack up their things and go to the Great Hall to eat—please, don't force me to deduct points from you for this! This is the first class of the new semester! The most important thing you need to do is clear your minds and welcome the afternoon classes."

Under Gilderoy Lockhart's fourth urging, the second-year wizards finally dispersed, packed up the papers, pens, and textbooks on their desks, and reluctantly left the language arts classroom to go to the Great Hall downstairs.

Compared to the captivating continuation of the story, the pressure of homework and deductions seemed to be slightly stronger for the time being.

However, judging from the expressions on the students' faces, without any surprises, in the coming week, those few novels that Gilderoy Lockhart gave away for free would most likely become the most popular "extracurricular reading" in the school.

……

"He's really a modest person, Professor Lockhart."

As the second-year students walked down the long stairs to return to the Great Hall for lunch, Ron Weasley said admiringly.

"If I had done so many amazing things, I would definitely want the whole world to know immediately, and I would boast about it a lot. The only regret is that he still assigned homework. I knew I shouldn't have asked so much..."

"That's why you're not Professor Lockhart, Weasley."

Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows and couldn't help but pour cold water on him.

"You should think about the essay. There's no place to copy from it. I believe that with Professor Lockhart's level, even if you only copied the beginning, he could instantly pick you out—and your math, tsk—"

"What's wrong, a member of the noble Malfoy family, would actually have a desire to win in Muggle subjects?"

Ron seemed to be pricked by something, turned his head with an unhappy expression, and stared at Draco like a fighting cock.

As the most mediocre child in the Weasley family, Ron didn't have that strong of a competitive spirit.

In fact, he originally planned to just muddle through. If someone else said that, it would be fine. Ron wouldn't be stupid enough to give himself extra homework, but he was especially unable to accept being ridiculed by the Malfoy family.

"Ron, Draco doesn't mean that..."

Harry looked at his two friends with some embarrassment, trying to smooth things over.

"I'm sorry, Harry, that's exactly what I mean!"

However, before he could finish speaking, Malfoy let out a disdainful snort, crossed his arms, and said coldly.

"Ron Weasley, I just increasingly feel that being grouped with a slacker like you is an embarrassing thing. I've put up with you for a long time, ever since last year, always copying Harry's and my homework, don't you feel ashamed?"

"Malfoy, you! You're going too far!"

Ron glanced at the students around him, his face instantly flushed red, and he clenched his fists tightly.

Even without turning his head, Ron could clearly feel that as a dispute suddenly erupted between the two, the lines in front and behind temporarily stopped, and everyone was curiously looking at him and Malfoy, whispering to each other.

"Draco, you're wrong, Ron, he..." Harry frowned and nudged the boy beside him with his elbow.

"This is between Ron and me, Harry. Don't worry, I won't throw a punch at him."

Draco Malfoy shook his head slightly, pulled away Harry who was blocking him, walked up to Ron, and stared fearlessly at the Weasley boy who was panting like an angry bull, squinting his eyes with an arrogant expression.

"What, want to fight? If that's your only way of expressing yourself, then come on!"

"You... Malfoy... very good..."

Ron Weasley gasped heavily, his fists clenched and cracking, struggling to restrain the urge to smash that hateful face, and glared fiercely at Draco Malfoy who had suddenly attacked, saying word by word.

"I didn't expect that you've always thought this way? I've remembered it, Mal, foy, Mas, ter!"

"Or did I say something wrong? Other than Quidditch and Wizard's Chess, have you put your mind on studying? If you think you can beat me in a certain subject's exam, then I'll let you do whatever you want, but unfortunately—ha—"

"Enough, Draco, shut up! What's wrong with you today?!"

Harry Potter forcefully pulled Malfoy, pulled him away from Ron, and turned to look at Ron.

"And Ron, you guys calm down first, I think there must be some misunderstanding..."

"There's no misunderstanding, I heard it very clearly—" Ron said resentfully.

"As a slacker, I'm not worthy of being friends with the noble Master Malfoy! You better watch me, Draco Malfoy, I hope you still remember what you said at the end of this semester!"

After saying that, Ron raised his hand to knock away Harry's outstretched right hand, squeezed through the crowd with difficulty, and rushed down the stairs.

Harry turned his head sharply, looking at Draco Malfoy with particular anger, frowning and asking.

"Draco, don't you think what you just said was a bit too much?"

"Maybe it was a bit, but so what? Did I say something wrong?"

Draco Malfoy pursed his lips, pretending to be calm, and said with some complicated emotions in his voice.

"Actually, Ron himself should have noticed it at the end of last year's term. If it weren't for the bonus of the chessboard challenge at the end of the 'Dark Magic Barrier,' he would have fallen behind a long time ago, let alone starting this year..."

Draco Malfoy shook his head and didn't finish his sentence.

Perhaps for most young wizards, that class was just an interesting story session, but from the perspective of Draco Malfoy, who had just joined the "Special Containment Procedures Foundation" not long ago, the meaning was completely different.

Without a doubt, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart was also a member of the Foundation.

And without any surprises, this "Language Arts Professor" held a high position in the Foundation—at least no lower than Bill Weasley, the B-level researcher who served as his guide, which meant that he was most likely an A-level member.

Although he didn't quite understand the meaning of this class and the previous math class yet.

But combined with the observations of the past few days, Draco Malfoy was now at least certain of one thing: there should be unprecedented changes at Hogwarts this year, otherwise, there wouldn't be such a large-scale call for those graduates to return to school, and under this transformation, no one would deliberately stop to wait for the stragglers.

And whether it was the math class or the language arts class's "homework," it further corroborated this point.

Eileen, or more accurately, the vast and mysterious forces including Eileen, Professor Dumbledore, and the Ministry of Magic, were selecting students in some way. If he made a slight mistake, he might miss the future.

"I'm sorry, Weasley, I hope you can live up to it..."

Draco Malfoy raised his head, looked at that figure not far away, and squeezed the badge in his pocket.

As an ordinary d-level member, that was all he could do, and it was also the "personal task" that Bill Weasley had assigned him in the Hogwarts Express compartment before.

……

At the same time, at the entrance at the top of the stairs.

"Aren't you going to persuade them? Draco and Ron seem to be having a fight."

Hannah Abbott gently touched the white fluffy ball beside her, and said with some worry.

Because they were stuck at the very end of the line, they didn't hear the entire conversation, only vaguely hearing those few sentences where the two raised their voices and accused each other, and didn't know what exactly happened below.

"Really? I don't think so..."

Eileen raised her eyebrows, looked at the little boy not far away, and shook her head gently.

"Why do I think these two look like they have a pretty good relationship? Maybe, this is how boys express their friendship, it's really silly, stubborn, and innocent. But... it seems to have produced a little effect."

At this delicate time, even with her prescience, she couldn't determine which step the future of the magical world would take. Under such circumstances, she naturally had no time to take care of and urge everyone around her.

However, Draco Malfoy reminded her of this—perhaps, she should try to give them more opportunities.