The Death Eater let Lockhart leave through the back door. Dentis, having done a good deed, leisurely returned to the hall.
Along the way, all he heard were scandalous stories about the Averys' daughter.
He nodded.
He hated those who spread yellow rumors, but Donna Avery's case was based on solid evidence, with a large number of eyewitnesses. This wasn't just a yellow rumor.
Besides, they're all adults. If they can't control their lower bodies, what did it have to do with him, the host?
He continued to get acquainted with representatives from various families. Under the mysterious filter of being a "wealthy man from the East," he achieved far more than expected. Almost everyone showed great interest in the "wizards' own bank" and "wizards' own city" he mentioned.
Oliver Avery, although somewhat regretful that things hadn't gone according to plan, was in a very good mood because he had obtained the Count's promise.
Donna Avery was also in a good mood. Though too embarrassed to stay there any longer, she was overjoyed to know that she would soon marry her male god! He was her male god! Even a brief encounter would have been memorable—let alone marrying him!
In short, today's banquet was a successful banquet—a victorious banquet.
With wealth, shock, delicious food, gossip, and business projects, everyone walked away with something valuable, including Dumbledore, of course.
The old headmaster, carrying handmade candies from the East, went straight back to his Hogwarts office.
Before he could even sit down, he said to the portraits in the headmaster's office:
"Armando, would you please ask Minerva to come? I have some things to ask her."
"Shouldn't Professor McGonagall already be home?"
"Home? That house only brings her painful memories. I bet she's still in the Transfiguration office—if she's not there, then go to her house and look for her. I remember there's a portrait of you there too."
"All right."
When Professor McGonagall arrived at the headmaster's office, the old man was feasting, stuffing a piece of peanut brittle into his mouth.
"Minerva, you're here. Sit down."
Professor McGonagall sat down, as elegant as ever.
"Albus, what's the matter?"
Dumbledore pushed a small bag of sugar-coated scallions toward her.
"This is a sweet treat from the East. It's really good. Would you like to try some?"
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.
"Get to the point."
Dumbledore smiled.
"Gilderoy Lockhart has basically been confirmed as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for next semester. I wanted to notify you to be prepared."
"Lockhart? I never liked him much when he was at school. That boy liked to show off too much."
"Yes, with that showy nature, I even thought he should have come to Gryffindor."
"Hmph, he didn't come to Gryffindor. I should really thank the Sorting Hat."
The old hat in the cabinet behind the headmaster suddenly opened its mouth:
"You're welcome, Professor McGonagall. It's what I'm meant to do."
Professor McGonagall: … …
Dumbledore chuckled.
"You know, Minerva, it's getting harder and harder to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It's good enough to have someone."
Professor McGonagall frowned.
"That doesn't mean just anyone can be the professor. If Hogwarts graduates can't even cast a proper Shield Charm, we'll be laughed at by Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."
Dumbledore nodded.
"That's why I'm talking to you. I hope that next term, you and Filius can supplement the upper-year courses with extra material that would normally be taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts—at least so students can handle emergencies with Transfiguration or Charms."
Professor McGonagall sighed.
"Albus, Severus has always wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Why won't you let him teach it? There are plenty of people who can teach Potions!"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Severus is important. If that person returns, Severus will be a critical link."
Professor McGonagall scowled.
"As headmaster, how can you believe that nonsense about the Defense Against the Dark Arts post being cursed? Frank Mitchell completed the full academic year!"
Dumbledore sighed.
"Minerva, magic is mysterious. Even I haven't grasped all its secrets. Sometimes we must trust things we can't see—Frank Mitchell did complete the year, but he fell down the stairs during the summer and broke his neck. That's why Quirrell was appointed temporarily."
Professor McGonagall raised her chin slightly—a gesture Hermione often made.
"That was just coincidence!"
"Muggles say something quite right—there are no coincidences. In hindsight, every coincidence has a trail."
Professor McGonagall fell silent.
Dumbledore popped another candy into his mouth, chewing contentedly.
"All right," Professor McGonagall stood up. "I understand. I'll talk to Filius later."
She turned to leave, but Dumbledore called after her:
"By the way, Minerva, how is that child, Dana, doing this summer? Can he manage on his own?"
Professor McGonagall shook her head.
"Dana is truly a good child. After participating in the Chudley Cannons' matches, he plans to travel around continental Europe—his mother's last wish."
"Continental Europe? So he's not in Britain…"
Professor McGonagall left. Dumbledore picked up a piece of ginger candy.
"Dark Dentis… Avenger from the darkness… Dark de Dentis… The middle name 'De' is a common one among French nobility… But Dana Emrys, D.E… Is that a coincidence?"
Dumbledore smiled to himself.
"Never underestimate any Emrys. Who knows what they might have inherited from their ancestors—like Transfiguration?
He wants revenge.
Hatred truly can make someone grow rapidly. We just need to ensure he doesn't grow down the wrong path. But that child seems cautious… and responsible.
So his revenge—is it only against the Averys?"
Dumbledore frowned.
"The Averys did much wrong following Tom. A little punishment wouldn't hurt. But Goyle Avery isn't doing well either. Severus still needs to warn him to stay away unless absolutely necessary."
Dumbledore walked to his phoenix, Fawkes. The old bird gently pecked at the outstretched hand.
"Wizard bank… Wizard city…"
Dumbledore looked out the eastern window, as if he could already see the faraway castle.
"Oh well… Let the child play if he wants.
After all…
We owe him."
End of the Chapter.
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