[HP] Being a problem student at Hogwarts

Madam Pomfrey was angry about this.

"Why didn't you just send him here?" She scolded, "A magic spell could have cured him."

Tom watched in silence as Madam Pomfrey hurriedly trimmed off excess bone spurs with a wave of her wand, checked for damage to the internal organs, and poured potions of various colors into Harry.

"Bone-promoting agent... Muscle-promoting and blood-replenishing agent..." She muttered and quickly took care of Harry's injuries. "Okay, sleep here for the night and he will be fine tomorrow morning."

Harry raised his head and gave her a sweet smile.

"I told you that we should stop that stupid Quidditch match." Madam Pomfrey said angrily, and then drove them out. "Get out of here if you don't care! Don't get in the way here!" She hurriedly went to deal with the injuries of other students. .

"I'm sorry." Tom said to Harry before going out.

Harry looked confused at this.

But Tom didn't explain anymore. He touched the wand in his sleeve and walked to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

"Thunderbolt explosion!"

Tom pointed his wand at the office door lock and recited a spell, blowing the door open.

"Ordinary civilized people will choose to knock on the door. But if the average wizard wants to open the door, I personally recommend opening the Alajo Cave. It will make less noise and have better results."

Lockhart put his feet up on the desk comfortably and said to Tom while wiping his hair with a dry towel.

"You crazy man," said Tom.

Lockhart poured some hair care oil and applied it carefully on the ends of his beautiful blond hair, and asked casually: "Madman? What is a madman? Does being different from others mean that you are crazy?"

He raised his head and looked at Tom with burning eyes, grinning his neat white teeth: "Besides, did you only know that I'm crazy today?"

Tom raised his wand.

"You-" Fury and reason were tugging at each other in his mind at the same time, making it difficult for him to form words.

"Oh, my beloved little fool, my dearest apprentice," Lockhart asked caringly, facing his wand, as if he hadn't seen it at all, "Who made you angry?"

Then he sneered and said slowly: "Ah, so you are angry with me."

Tom looked at him.

But Lockhart was too lazy to understand Tom's forbearance. He put down his feet, adjusted his sitting posture, and leaned towards Tom, his handsome face swaying in the candlelight.

"Why are you angry with me?" he asked softly, ignoring the wand that almost poked him in the face.

"I share my secrets with you, I teach you knowledge with all my heart, I hold you in the palm of my hand - I can't bear to hurt even a hair of yours." Lockhart, who was leaning forward in front of him, had a smile on his lips and gentle eyebrows.

In contrast, in the photos on the surrounding walls, every Lockhart stared at Tom with a cold smile. .seven

The real Lockhart has a gentle tone, and the slight anger in his words is also intimate, but that kind of intimacy is like rootless duckweed on the water, which scatters when the wind blows.

"And the only little thing I ask of you is... stay out of your way."

He even smiled and reached up to touch Tom's cheek.

"The blood on your face... looks really nice," Lockhart said nonchalantly.

"Harry - is - my - friend!" Tom said through gritted teeth.

"I am your mentor."

Lockhart sighed seemingly tolerantly and said: "So even if you still choose to hinder me after I warned you many times, I am still reluctant to do anything to you -"

"I'm even kind enough to give you a lesson, to show you that the curse of failure has its place—"

"And you are actually angry with me." Lockhart fell back in his chair and said slowly, "Just because of a trivial... choice of 'teaching aids'."

"Don't put it so nicely. You're just doing it for yourself, and teach me a lesson by the way." Tom said coldly.

"Besides, Harry is a human being, not a 'teaching aid'."

"Do you really care about him?" Lockhart spread his hands and couldn't help laughing. "If you were really so angry, why didn't you raise your wand on the field just now?"

"Now?" He reached out and flicked Tom's wand contemptuously, "Stop being such a spoiled brat, my dearest apprentice."

"There are so many classmates on the field, who knows if you will--"

"A reason is still an excuse. Since you and I have different ideas, there's no point in arguing." Lockhart waved his hand. "I know much better than you about how huge the gap is between people's thoughts. I'm not good at talking to each other. People argue, but thanks to Merlin, I've always been able to reach an amicable consensus with everyone."

He stretched out his index finger and tapped his brain suggestively.

The threat was effective, and Tom lowered his wand slightly.

"Since you are generally well-behaved, I am still willing to learn to understand you."

"Even if you blew my door open. And pointed your wand at me."

"Remember to be grateful, little fool." Lockhart pulled out his wand and repaired the door.

Tom couldn't thank him enough. Even if the madman in front of him might really look at him differently and be friendly to him, this so-called kindness is still so unsettling.

"You have to apologize," Tom said.

"Ha, that's a bit much, little Tommy."

"Did you do what happened on the court today?"

"I can't do it, fate has its own hand." Lockhart replied calmly, "I just need a few bones to save the boy."

"Why do you need - never mind, the important thing is that you hurt Harry and you have to apologize to him."

"I don't."

"I really can't force you to do anything, nor can I change your mind. I just want to advise you that all the gifts of fate have already been secretly marked with a price -"

"What makes you think I didn't pay for this?" Lockhart asked.

"Look at me, honey, look at me."

Tom met Lockhart's blue eyes, and it seemed as if a layer of gauze had been swept away - Lockhart was still handsome, but not flawless. He seemed to be a dummy made of ceramics, as uniform as a spider's web. The cracked lines are densely covered on every inch of exposed skin. There is no flesh and blood in the cracks, just bottomless darkness.

"The price." Lockhart's cracked fingers gently touched his face. With just a slight pressure, more fine cracks spread from the point of application. "The backlash of fate nearly destroyed my shell."

"I'm sorry - you deserved it."

"Yes, I deserve it -" Lockhart didn't feel offended at all, "I got the bones of the savior protagonist, I tested the strength of fate's backlash, and I paid the price for what I wanted - I feel fair enough."

"But it's unfair to Harry. He's innocent. I don't think it's right to intentionally hurt someone else for your own benefit."

Lockhart burst into laughter.

He stood up, walked around the table, walked to Tom, and put his arm around his shoulders affectionately.

"You think? Your dear friend Harry is innocent? Is it wrong to sacrifice others?"

He held Tom half-forcedly and walked to the window, pressing the back of his head hard with his hand.

"Look," he whispered in Tom's ear, "what do you see? A beautiful school? Lively students? Serious teachers?"

"Let me tell you, what I saw - broken walls! Dead bodies lying across the field!"

"He? Dead person. Him? Dead person. She? Dead person. He, he, she, she - they are all dead." Lockhart pointed at the students below and said with a smile.

"The cloud of death hangs over here - the savior? The son of ominous fate, the incarnation of disaster. Wherever he goes, he brings danger. Only he himself has been generously allowed by fate to escape death."

“Your friend may be innocent—but fate inflicts danger and misfortune on everyone around him.”

"Tell me now, my beloved little fool—"

"Should you sacrifice the peace of the rest of the school for your friend, or should you sacrifice your friend for the sake of everyone's peace?"