In the evening, the Express finally arrived beside Hogwarts.
Lockhart had originally intended to inform someone in the castle before leaving, so he could “coincidentally” run into Ron and the others on his way out, saving himself the trouble of Apparition.
However, on the station platform, he spotted a person, which spared him that step.
“Ron Weasley and Harry Potter are sitting in a flying car.
Judging by the trajectory, they should be heading towards Hogwarts.
I will keep watch here.
You take the older students to the carriages.
The first-years go to Hagrid—that’s the tall gamekeeper,” Snape said to Lockhart with a stern face.
“They’ve been seen?” Lockhart asked unnecessarily.
Snape pulled a newspaper from his robes and tossed it to Lockhart in lieu of a reply.
One had to admit, the media of the British Empire was remarkably advanced.
Merely someone capturing a photo of that flying car, and in less than three hours, newspapers fresh with the smell of ink had already rolled off the printing presses and appeared in the self-service newspaper boxes on city streets.
The newspaper Snape tossed over was clearly a Muggle one, as the scenes and people in the photos didn’t move.
However, thanks to the reporter’s superb photography skills, it still clearly showed the appearance of that wrecked car.
“You actually came all the way to greet them.
It seems you’re very concerned about them,” Lockhart added another unnecessary comment.
He then quickly retreated under Snape’s fierce glare, hastily ushering the older students towards the Thestral-drawn carriages.
Unexpectedly, Lockhart found that he could actually see the Thestrals.
By rights, one should only be able to see these peculiar magical creatures after witnessing death firsthand.
But Lockhart truly couldn’t remember where he had seen anyone die.
Unless…
could it be that his own death counted?
After arranging the students onto the carriages, Lockhart did not follow them to the Great Hall.
Instead, he returned to the station side.
Facing Snape’s expression that clearly deemed him superfluous, Lockhart, as if completely unaware, shamelessly moved closer.
“What are you doing here?” Snape asked.
“I can handle watching here alone.”
“Don’t say that.
I just feel some tasks are more appropriate for me to handle,” Lockhart replied, not at all annoyed by Snape’s attitude.
Geniuses often had their tempers, which was normal.
As long as his existence could earn Galleons and prestige for Lockhart, it didn’t matter if Snape cursed him upon sight.
Besides, Snape’s attitude wasn’t directed at Lockhart personally.
He simply had a bad attitude towards all “Defense Against the Dark Arts professors” because he couldn’t get the position himself.
Sure enough, after hearing this, Snape’s attitude worsened further.
Although the professors were still in a stage of skepticism regarding Lockhart’s teaching abilities, Dumbledore had specifically informed the Heads of Houses that Lockhart’s level might be “not as high as his books claim,” and they should be prepared to clean up any messes.
So Snape had more or less guessed the true level of the original Lockhart—it was just that the current Lockhart was not the original one anymore.
“Oh?
So what exactly is this task that only the famous Gilderoy Lockhart can handle, while a mere Potions professor cannot?” he asked sarcastically.
“For example, putting on a kindly smile, comforting the terrified students, and urging them to hurry back to the Great Hall for dinner,” Lockhart countered, turning the tables.
Snape: “…”
This was indeed something he couldn’t do.
Expecting Snape, who cultivated an aloof personality, to produce a “kindly smile” was about as difficult as making Voldemort dance a pole dance.
But he quickly thought of something else.
“I don’t believe two students who have broken a hundred school rules need comforting.
Upon receiving them, they should be taken directly to the Headmaster’s office to discuss their expulsion.”
“Is that so?
Although there will be punishment, I believe there’s still some distance between that and expulsion,” Lockhart offered a differing opinion.
“That’s merely your thought,” Snape refused to yield an inch.
Lockhart smiled and did not continue the topic.
He knew Snape was just talking tough.
No matter how much he detested Harry Potter and his father, for the sake of Lily Evans, he would do his utmost to watch over her child.
Wasn’t the proof right here?
Out of concern, he had come alone outside the school to meet them.
Thinking about how in the original story, Snape had secretly followed behind after confirming Harry and Ron’s safety, only revealing himself in the Great Hall while loudly threatening expulsion, Lockhart felt a deep sense of worthlessness for this pitiable man.
With this in mind, he pulled out cakes bought on the train and two bottles of Rosmerta’s mead from his Extended pocket.
“It seems those two rascals will be quite late.
Although it’s still summer, it gets quite chilly here at night…
Professor Snape, how about a glass of mead?
I happen to have a favor to ask of you.”
Snape was clearly not very adept at accepting kindness from others.
Seeing Lockhart offer the drink, he initially wanted to refuse, but upon hearing there was a favor involved, he went along and accepted the bottle.
Because this was an added bonus to a transaction, not a free gift.
And after being blown by the chilly Scottish Highland evening breeze, he did fancy a drink.
Of course, the former reason was more important—just think, because Harry Potter’s grandfather made magical shampoo, Snape, out of hatred for James Potter and unwillingness to use Muggle shampoo, would rather not wash his hair, letting it become greasy.
Truly, “the gentleman does not drink from the spring of thieves.”
“We haven’t interacted much, and there are very limited things you could ask me to do…
Let me guess, probably those Muggles want to smear that mixture of lizard blood and Doxy secretion on their faces again?” Snape stared at the bottle for a while, ensuring it likely contained no poison, before taking a swig.
“That’s only part of it, and frankly, it’s only wizards from Muggle families who would buy it.
The market is only that big.
Although I do have plans for large-scale shipments to Muggles, that will have to wait until I become Minister of Magic,” Lockhart stated bluntly.
Snape gave him a sidelong glance.
“Minister of Magic?
You?”
“Yes.
After finishing this year, I’m going to work at the Ministry…
I believe I said back in my school days that I would become the youngest Minister in history.”
“Yes, you also said you would create a Philosopher’s Stone before graduation and then lead the England team to win the Quidditch World Cup as captain.
Although I came to Hogwarts just after you graduated, I heard about that too,” Snape added mockingly.
“Ahem…” Lockhart felt somewhat awkward.
“‘Either be the best, or don’t do it at all’ is my motto.
I suppose I truly may lack talent in Quidditch and alchemy, but regarding the Minister of Magic position, I haven’t given up.”
“What does that have to do with me,” Snape took another drink.
“Because I’m half-blood, the pure-blood families certainly won’t support me.
I need your help to make these old die-hards earn money from Muggles.
That way, the resistance I face during reforms will be smaller.”
“I have no interest in money,” Snape said.
“If not for buying potion ingredients, I wouldn’t even want to leave the castle.”
“But you wouldn’t refuse honors, right?
If you could become a ‘face’ for the magical world’s exports to Muggles, I think a Second Class Order of Merlin would be assured.
A First Class might even be negotiable.”
“Talk to me after you actually become Minister,” Snape wouldn’t believe him so easily.
“Alright, Professor Snape is indeed as the rumors say…
In that case, I’d like to ask you to brew something for me first.
I’ll pay.
Surely you won’t refuse that?” Having drunk Lockhart’s mead, Snape felt he shouldn’t be so unreasonable.
“Let’s hear it.
If it means dealing less with those profiteering merchants, money is money, no matter who pays.”
“I want a potion that can change color at will, with some degree of magical resistance and adhesion,” Lockhart stated his request.
“Not difficult.
But what do you intend to use it for?”
“To make color-changing contact lenses.
Muggles call them ‘colored contacts.’ I want to try them out at Hogwarts first, giving them out as prizes to students,” Lockhart explained.
*Pointless*—that was Snape’s first reaction.
He was about to refuse when something suddenly occurred to him.
“You said, contact lenses?
Something that sits in front of the eyes?”
“Yes.
Besides freely changing color, it would be best if they could resist the strong winds on the Quidditch pitch and minor curses during duels, like the Conjunctivitus Curse.
I don’t want students injuring their eyes in my class.
Even though Madam Pomfrey could put someone back together as long as they still had a functioning brain, if I caused an accident, my teaching career might end prematurely,” Lockhart said.
Snape stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this fellow had discovered something.
But Lockhart’s expression remained normal, not as if he knew anything.
“Fine.
Although utterly frivolous, since you’re the one willing to waste money, I personally don’t care.
First-years make color-changing potions in class anyway; adding a few extra ingredients won’t take much time,” Snape finally agreed.