That day, the battalion of little dwarfs masquerading as Cupids turned Hogwarts upside down.
Students fled as soon as they saw them, knowing that being cornered by one of these grim-faced ssengers ant public humiliation was about to happen.
However, in an unexpected way, Lockhart had indeed managed to dispel much of the oppressive unease that had been hanging over the castle since the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.
At least on this Valentine's Day, not a single soul was worried about the petrifying monster suddenly appearing around so dark corner to freeze them solid.
The basilisk seed like a distant threat compared to the horror of dwarf-delivered love songs.
Or rather, the students didn't have the ti to worry about ancient monsters when they were too busy dodging romantic missiles launched by Lockhart's army of cupids.
Those persistent little dwarfs kept shuttling through the castle's passages with the efficiency of postal owls, their golden harps slung across their backs like weapons of mass embarrassnt. They delivered cards, letters, packages, and embarrassing musical ssages to both students and professors, leaving a trail of red-faced victims in their aftermath.
Harry had had the naive hope that he could escape this completely unscathed, but he was clearly being far too optimistic about his chances of avoiding public humiliation.
In the afternoon, as he was hurrying to Professor Flitwick's Charms class alongside his fellow Gryffindor classmates, a grim-faced dwarf suddenly erged from the crowd.
"Hey! You there, Harry Potter!" the sullen-faced little dwarf shouted roughly.
The dwarf began aggressively elbowing his way through the dense crowd of students, pushing and shoving. His fake cupid wings knocked several first-years aside as he bulldozed his way toward his intended victim.
Seeing this inevitable disaster approaching, Harry inwardly groaned with the despair of a man facing execution. This definitely wasn't going to be anything resembling pleasant or dignified.
The last thing he wanted was to make a complete fool of himself in front of everyone he knew, especially with Cho Chang sowhere in the crowd and Malfoy lurking nearby with his cara-ready smirk.
Therefore, he imdiately prepared to run away at full speed.
However, the grim-faced dwarf seed to have the tracking instincts of a bloodhound and had already pushed through the final barrier of students, and reached Harry.
"Stop! Stand absolutely still!" the dwarf said expressionlessly, grabbing Harry's arm. The dwarf's grip strength was obviously far, far greater than Harry had imagined from such a small creature—he felt as though his arm had been caught by a giant. No amount of struggling could break him free from those strong fingers.
This definitely didn't look like any Valentine's Day Cupid from the storybooks; it was more like being stopped by a street thug.
Harry looked around the growing circle of spectators with pleading, desperate eyes, silently begging for soone, anyone to intervene and save him from this approaching humiliation.
Unfortunately, he discovered that absolutely everyone present wore the unmistakable expressions of eagerness to watch a entertaining show happen.
Even his best friend Ron was standing safely to one side with a suppressed grin of anticipation.
Worse still, from the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Professor Westeros leaning casually against the stone wall with his arms crossed in a relaxed pose, his eyes squinting with amusent as he observed the drama.
"There's a special musical ssage that must be delivered to Mr. Harry Potter," the dwarf announced in a completely flat, expressionless tone.
His voice carried all the enthusiasm of a factory worker forced to work a double shift on Christmas Day, showing that he found this entire cupid charade as ridiculous as everyone else but was being paid enough to endure the indignity.
"Can I refuse this delivery?" Harry looked at the dwarf in front of him with so desperation.
However, the dwarf paid absolutely no attention to Harry's desperate pleas for rcy and simply set his golden harp down on the stone floor.
Without any word or warm-up, he began playing the instrunt in what could generously be described as a haphazard manner, producing sounds that had no similarity to actual music.
The harsh noise that erged from the tortured strings was so aggressively unpleasant that quite a few of the watching students imdiately covered their ears with their hands.
Harry beca absolutely certain that the fellow in front of him couldn't actually play the harp. The sounds erging from the harp made it seem that the dwarf was either completely tone-deaf or trying to punish everyone hearing it.
"This is your personalized musical Valentine's ssage," the dwarf announced with deliberate dramatic pause, clearly savoring the mont before delivering the killing blow to Harry's dignity:
"To Harry Potter—
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."
Although the dwarf delivered this romantic poetry in a completely monotone voice that stripped away any pretense of romance or charm, Harry still felt his soul leaving his body from pure embarrassnt.
The entire corridor imdiately erupted in absolutely deafening laughter. Students doubled over with laughter, clutching their sides as tears of laughter stread down their cheeks. Even the portraits hanging on the walls were laughing so hard they were wiping away tears with their sleeves.
Harry's face turned as red as Ron's hair, and he imdiately turned toward his traitor friend, "This is definitely Malfoy's handiwork! That snake probably paid good money to humiliate like this!"
"Could also be so secret admirer of yours finally working up the courage to confess," Ron managed to say between barely suppressed spasms of laughter. "Maybe soone thinks your eyes really do look like pickled toads in an attractive way?"
"The warning bell rings in exactly one minute, children," Adrian called from his position on the wall. "I sincerely hope none of you will be late for Professor Flitwick's class."
The gathered crowd imdiately began dispersing in a rush.
As Harry passed by Professor Westeros's position, still burning with embarrassnt and righteous indignation, he couldn't resist complaining with fake offended in his voice: "Professor, why didn't you help escape that torture?!"
"Next ti for sure, Mr. Potter," Adrian replied with a warm smile, giving Harry's shoulder a gentle firm push to indicate that he should hurry along to his next class.
After Harry disappeared around the corner with his fellow Gryffindors, only the grim-faced dwarf and Adrian remained at the scene of the romantic cri.
Adrian was just preparing to make his own departure toward his office when the dwarf suddenly reached out and grabbed the corner of his professor's robe with surprising boldness.
"What can I do for you?" Adrian asked, turning back with a genuinely puzzled expression as he wondered what business a fake cupid could possibly have with him.
"There's a letter and package that require delivery to Professor Westeros," The dwarf said sohow producing from the depths of his ridiculous costu a pink envelope and a beautifully wrapped small box with an elegant bow tied on top.
"?"
Adrian looked genuinely bewildered as he accepted these unexpected items from the dwarf's hands.
He honestly hadn't expected anyone in the castle to send him romantic mails.
However, he felt thankful that this was apparently just a simple letter and package delivery, rather than one of those embarrassing musical ssages.
He definitely didn't want to experience the dwarf's agonizing harp performance firsthand, once had been quite enough hearing attack for anyone to endure in a single lifeti.
After confirming that Adrian had properly accepted the delivered items, the dwarf imdiately nodded with professional satisfaction and hurried away down the corridor.
Ti was money and tasks were piling up—after delivering the remaining two ssages on his list, he could finally clock out and escape this ridiculous costu that was rubbing in places he preferred not to think about!
Adrian stood alone in the now-quiet corridor, looking with curiosity at the items in his hands.
Just as he was about to open the envelope, a loud whistle suddenly echoed from around the stone corridor corner.
"Aha! It seems our Care of Magical Creatures professor has secret admirers too!" Lockhart's voice bood with delighted surprise as he appeared from seemingly nowhere, still wearing the sa blindingly glittering pink robes from that morning's breakfast spectacle.
Perhaps because it was Valentine's Day and his romantic sche was proceeding exactly as planned, Lockhart seed to be in extraordinarily high spirits. There was an unprecedented level of confidence gleaming in his eyes.
He radiated an almost euphoric state of self-satisfaction, like a peacock who had just discovered he was the most beautiful bird in the entire forest.
"Let guess, my dear colleague~" Lockhart's eyes focused intensely on the pink letter in Adrian's hand, his voice taking on the dramatic tone of a stage actor delivering a crucial monologue: "A romantic Valentine's gift from so shy young witch who has been harboring secret feelings! Am I right? Hmm? Professor Westeros, there's absolutely no need to be so reserved about matters of the heart—just look at my own success! I've already received countless gifts today from admirers throughout the castle and outside!"
"I sincerely hope not," Adrian replied dryly, glancing at Lockhart's expectant face before turning his attention back to the letter. He broke the wax seal and looked at the parchnt.
After a few monts of silent reading, Adrian quietly folded the letter and tucked it into his inner robe pocket.
The contents were unbearable to read—paragraph after paragraph of sickly-sweet words, apparently signed by a seventh-year Ravenclaw girl. He had a slight impression of her but really couldn't rember her face.
Next, Adrian opened the package, which contained a small box of cookies.
He cautiously picked up one piece and sniffed it.
'Ugh, the scent of love potion—and not a subtle variety either.'
Adrian couldn't help but shake his head with a mixture of disappointnt and resignation. 'These girls nowadays...'
After confirming his suspicions about the cookies' contents, Adrian wrapped them back up and tucked the box away in his robes, ntally making a note to find an appropriate ti and place to dispose of them safely without causing any accidental romantic entanglents.
"Love potion, is it?" Lockhart suddenly moved closer and spoke. "I'm all too familiar with that particular romantic strategy."
As he spoke, he inhaled deeply, sampling the lingering magical scent that still was in the air around them like perfu: "Oh my, it seems to be the high-grade professional stuff too—quite expensive and potent."
"You're very knowledgeable about this?" Adrian showed a puzzled expression.
"Ah, you must be joking with !" Lockhart replied with supre confidence, raising his eyebrows in an expression of fake surprise. "In this entire castle—no, in all of magical Britain—absolutely no one understands love potions better than I do."
Adrian nodded thoughtfully: "I suppose that's true, given your unique circumstances."
In fact, regarding this particular matter, Lockhart really wasn't doing his usual exaggeration or self-glorification.
As a bestselling author, and an 'adventurer' whose handso face was on the covers of countless magazines, he regularly received gifts from fans around the world. These packages often contained food items that had been laced with all sorts of random potions.
"Would you like an antidote?" Lockhart offered generously, reaching into his robes as if he carried a complete pharmacy. "I've prepared plenty of different varieties for just such occasions. Standard love potion antidotes, infatuation reversal draughts, obsession neutralizers—I have the complete collection."
"No need for that, but thank you for the offer," Adrian waved his hand.
It seed that Lockhart was indeed remarkably well-prepared for the romantic dangers of his celebrity lifestyle.
But Adrian had no intention of eating those cookies under any circumstances.
The two stood in the corridor for a while.
"Professor Westeros," Lockhart suddenly spoke, "Do you think I'm a formidable wizard?"
Hearing this unexpected question, Adrian looked at Lockhart with genuine surprise and curiosity.
'Why was he asking such a question?'
However, to avoid unnecessary trouble, Adrian decided to leave Lockhart so face.
"Of course, Professor Lockhart," Adrian chose his words carefully, "you are undoubtedly a successful adventurer and accomplished author. After all, being able to write so many bestselling books that capture the imagination of readers across the wizarding world does indeed require extraordinary talent, not to ntion considerable skill in self-promotion and public relations."
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