"My father was a Muggle, my mother was a witch, and I had two older sisters, but they didn't inherit my mother's magic, but I ......did," Lockhart began to recount, reminiscing about his childhood.

"She was partial to me. There was no smug emotion in Lockhart's tone now, and now he was just stating a faint truth.

"I'm a wizard and can go to Hogwarts, but neither of my two older sisters! ”

"I was vain, and that emotion was growing in me, even though I didn't know it was vanity at the time. Lockhart said slowly.

"I try my best to get people's attention and get their attention, and that's satisfying. ”

"By the way, I was actually able to go into Slytherin at the time, and I ended up in Ravenclaw. ”

"I thought I was the best, but I wasn't. Lockhart's tone at this time was not unwilling, but relieved.

"There, no one was surprised by my naturally handsome curly hair. ”

"Even though I'm actually smarter than the vast majority of other people. ”

"But I'm not satisfied, I want to do my best, otherwise life will be meaningless. ”

"Now it sounds, stupid, right? ”

He Min felt the same way, and nodded slightly in agreement.

She is actually very much in pursuit of perfection, all excellent on the list of achievements, if when there is a good one.

She's also going crazy and uncomfortable.

But it looks like Lockhart has gone to the other extreme.

He put all his mind on grandstanding.

"I did something stupid to get their attention. ”

"I boasted to my classmates that I wanted to make the Philosopher's Stone before I graduated. ”

"I also plan to lead LinkedIn Glen Quidditch to the World Cup and eventually become the youngest Minister for Magic in the UK. ”

"Nice ideals. Hermione sneered, not knowing what to do for a moment.

It sounded a bit fanciful, but out of courtesy, Hermione complimented him.

"But in the end, it should be good, right? After you graduated, you were also famous. Hermione recalled, and began to list some of his titles.

"A third-class Medal of Merlin of the Order of Merlin, an honorary member of the Anti-Dark Arts League, and a five-time winner of the Wizarding Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, which is also a great achievement. ”

"What if I say that all my accomplishments are fake?" Lockhart's words startled Hermione.

"Fake?" she repeated, her gaze on the man again.

"Haven't you defeated many evil creatures of the dark arts?"

"I'm sorry that I deceived many people, I tricked accomplished wizards and witches into revealing their greatest deeds, and then erasing their memories and finally I processed them into books and became my own. ”

"Oblivion?" Hermione looked at Lockhart in surprise, her brow furrowing subconsciously.

"Yes, it's the only spell I'm good at. Lockhart nodded, smiling bitterly at Hermione.

"When I was a student, my studies were wasted. ”

"I used to have my name engraved on the Quidditch pitch in 20-foot letters. ”

"I used to project my own portrait into the sky, like the dark mark of a mysterious man. ”

"I've been focusing on it, and I've learned little about really good magic. ”

"That means you don't actually know the Defence Against the Dark Arts Charm, so why would Professor Dumbledore allow you to serve?" Hermione immediately grasped the point and questioned.

"I don't know. Lockhart still had a bitter smile on his face and shook his head slowly.

"By the way, Miss Granger, I have a small request, can you grant me?" said the man abruptly.

"Say it. Hermione was in a bit of a trance now, desperately trying to use her own logic to piece together the details of the information revealed by Lockhart, straighten everything out, and integrate it.

But it's too difficult.

"Can you ask me to sign again? I want to experience this adoration again. Lockhart said tentatively, making a strange request.

Hermione's face was stunned for a moment, but she quickly understood.

"Professor Lockhart, I'm your admirer, could you please sign my name?" Hermione approached him, made a look of adoration, picked up the Daily Prophet from the bedside table, and handed it to Lockhart.

"It's a great honor. Gilderoy Lockhart smiled, keeping his usual graceful smile, and out of nowhere he conjured his peacock quill and left his fancy and ornate signature on the paper.

It was handed to Hermione.

"Thank you. He said.

"No, I don't. Hermione replied briefly.

"Thank you. Lockhart repeated, then closed his eyes, closed his eyelids, and quickly fell asleep.

This is vaguely a one-sided conversation, and it's over.

Hermione's compassion prevailed anyway, fulfilling the wishes of the dying man.

In this conversation, Hermione hears how a gifted person is obscure, and her inner doubts are solved, but the most important secrets and mysteries remain unsolved.

The so-called truth is still clouded.

Hermione then made her way downstairs, leaving St. Mungo's Hospital for Witchcraft and Wizardry, meeting up with the Weasleys and Harry at an agreed Muggle supermarket, wandering around for a while, finding a small dilapidated inn to stay in.

The next day, they came to see Mr. Weasley again, and they were ready to go back to school and leave.

It can be seen that on the way back to school, their interest is not very high.

"Harry, did they quarrel?" asked Hermione quietly.

"Because Percy. Harry explained in a low voice.

"Don't mention him, Umbridge's lackey! What kind of work can keep him so busy that he doesn't even come to see his father. Even though he lowered his voice, Ron heard it, and shouted out loud.

"What do you say?" Mrs. Weasley patted Ron on the head.

"He's your brother, don't talk nonsense. Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

Then the group walked into a fruit shop, and many tiles had fallen from the outside and many flies were flying around.

This is yet another hidden Floo Powder site.

After Mrs. Weasley's farewell, the group returned to Hogwarts, after all, they had class tomorrow.

The visitation is over.

At the same time, in the basement of London's busiest downtown neighborhood, in an office of the Ministry of Magic, the political center of British wizarding society, such a scene is unfolding.

It was a room carved out of thin air between the third and fourth floors of the Ministry of Magic, taking on a circular shape, surrounded by bookcases, and books, with the occasional book or two that didn't look so flat, with a golden feather sticking out of the page.

It was Fawkes' golden tail feathers.