Although it was mid-August, the hottest time of the year, Lucius Malfoy felt a chill in his heart.
“What are you talking about, Severus?” Lucius feigned nonchalance as he poured himself a drink.
“I’m only here today to take Draco shopping for school supplies.
They may not be expensive, but they are numerous.
I didn’t quite trust a house-elf to handle it.”
Seeing Snape still staring fixedly at him, Lucius had no choice but to make a gesture of surrender.
“Alright, fine.
Since there are no outsiders here, I’ll be frank…
That Arthur Weasley has been putting considerable pressure on me lately, so I took the opportunity to offload some goods in Knockturn Alley.”
“I thought friendship meant we could be more honest with each other,” Snape said flatly.
“Draco didn’t cover for you just now.
I believe he knows nothing about this, which is why I spared you some embarrassment…
Shall I be more direct?”
Lucius Malfoy’s expression darkened further.
“What’s the point of speaking in riddles between us?
Just say it plainly.”
“Fine, I’ll be plain.”
Seeing Lucius remain stubbornly evasive, Snape decided to lay all his cards on the table.
“What exactly did you slip into that Weasley girl’s old book earlier?”
Lucius’s heart sank.
“Severus…
Must we go this far?
Why can’t we be more considerate of each other?”
Snape’s expression didn’t change.
“Whatever you slipped in, if that girl gets into trouble at school because of it, I will likely be the one held responsible in the end.
If this is your way of being considerate to a friend, then I must have chosen the wrong friend.”
“It shouldn’t come to that.
You’re not the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor now, are you?” Lucius let the words slip unintentionally.
Snape stared into his eyes, his face growing colder—being unable to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was already a sore point for him, and Lucius had just rubbed salt in the wound.
Lucius Malfoy realized his mistake.
He hurried to make amends.
“Set your mind at ease.
That object shouldn’t have any magic left in it.
I just wanted to cause some trouble for Weasley, to stop him from snapping at my heels like a wild dog all day long.”
Snape felt a sense of foreboding.
“Why would you say that?”
“Isn’t he watching me closely enough, he—”
“I’m not talking about that!” Snape hissed.
“Why do you say its magic is gone?”
Lucius was momentarily speechless, unsure why Snape was reacting so strongly.
Snape said no more.
He simply pushed up his sleeve.
“This Mark hasn’t reacted for many years.
I assumed yours was the same, but it seems I was wrong.”
“Severus, I—”
Snape looked Lucius straight in the eye.
“Just now, when I saw you slip that thing, it actually caused a stinging pain here…
You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
Knowing he was caught, Lucius Malfoy adopted a look of indifference, deciding he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
“It’s been so long.
Even the Dark Lord himself has vanished.
Isn’t it natural that I’d want to get rid of some troublesome items?”
Lucius picked up his glass, intending to take a sip of the freshly poured wine to calm his nerves, but Snape stopped his hand.
He looked at Snape in confusion, only to see a face twisted with rare fury.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Snape seethed with genuine anger.
“That was something entrusted to you by the Dark Lord!
How could you—”
Perhaps realizing his agitation had drawn attention from nearby patrons, Snape lowered his voice again.
“…How could you just casually discard his belongings?”
“I never knew you were so loyal to him,” Lucius retorted.
Snape was practically beside himself.
“You know what I mean!
If anything involves ‘HIS’ belongings, any incident that arises will never be a minor matter!”
“Whatever trouble comes, it’s the Weasleys’ problem now,” Lucius shrugged.
“There’s an advantage to maintaining elegance; I always wear gloves…
Ha, that Weasley may love Muggles, but I doubt he even knows what fingerprints are.
He’s always trying to figure out how airplanes stay in the air, while I bought one…”
Snape stood up, planting his hands on the table and glaring down at Lucius.
“Don’t change the subject!
I won’t stand by and let this mess escalate!
Tell me, what exactly is it?”
Lucius tried to keep deflecting, but seeing Snape’s utterly implacable expression, he understood Snape was dead serious.
“It’s really not dangerous.
Just a shabby old diary.
He gave it to me, said it could be used to open the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts, but I doubt it’s still functional after all this time…
Don’t look at me like that.
That’s truly all I know.”
Snape glared at him for a moment longer, then turned and strode away, clearly intending to leave without another word.
Anxious, Lucius called after him, “Hey, you’re not really going to report me, are you?
Are you?”
“I need to go tend to my cauldron.
The potion is probably over-boiled by now,” Snape muttered sullenly.
…
After the trip to Diagon Alley, Gilderoy Lockhart finally enjoyed a rare stretch of leisure.
Of course, this leisure was relative.
While he could now sleep until he woke naturally every day, to avoid the wretched London morning fog harming his health, he chose to go out for exercise only after nine a.m.
Upon returning, he would practice spells and prepare lessons in his basement with great regularity.
He firmly believed that those who wish to succeed must first possess self-discipline.
During afternoon tea, Lockhart would sometimes visit the bank where his brother-in-law worked, posing as a “client” to have pastries with him; other times, he would go to a certain dilapidated red telephone booth, dial 62442, enter the Ministry of Magic, and chat idly with his “future colleagues.”
Being something of a celebrity, his social circle was wide.
Sometimes he would seek out Arthur Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office to discuss the possibility of introducing a magical subway to the wizarding world.
Sometimes, under the pretext of “checking out newly developed spells,” he would visit Gilbert Wimple of the Committee on Experimental Charms to copy down new magic (permitted once proven safe).
Of course, as his best entry point into the Ministry, Arnold Peasegood, in charge of the Accident Reversal Squad, was his primary target.
He had met this Ministry official previously due to the incident at Loch Ness.
Peasegood told him their department was severely understaffed.
Worse, with too much work and meager pay, many wanted to resign or transfer to other departments—even he himself wanted to move to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“That’s no good.
You need to recruit many new people,” Lockhart said.
“Indeed.”
“Such tasks should be given to Muggle-born wizards.
They’re the ones who know what seems ‘incongruous’ to Muggles.”
“You’re right, but pure-blood wizards don’t like Muggle-borns entering important Ministry departments.”
Lockhart was amused.
“You’re joking.
This is an important department?
Since when?”
Peasegood put down his custard cream biscuit.
“Would it kill you to talk less?”
“You’re not my boss yet,” Lockhart said.
They had become familiar enough that harmless jokes were perfectly acceptable.
Peasegood even regarded Lockhart as an “unofficial member.” It was precisely because of this that Peasegood shared a few heartfelt words with him.
“Honestly, I don’t understand why you’re so set on teaching at Hogwarts,” he wondered.
“If you took a position now, at least Fudge wouldn’t hold any prejudice against you yet.
But if you come out from Hogwarts later, he’ll see you as being on Dumbledore’s side…
I think you’re smart enough to know how wary Fudge is of Dumbledore, and with your level of fame…”
“You’re right, my fame is too great,” Lockhart readily admitted.
“So since I’ll attract Fudge’s suspicion either way, I might as well give him a reason proactively.
That way, Dumbledore will trust me.”
“But he’s not fond of the Ministry.”
“But he has things he wants to accomplish too,” Lockhart said, deliberately vague.