Wes spent the entire holiday relaxing on his private island. The local seafood population suffered greatly, thanks to the hardworking Jandy, who prepared all sorts of exquisite dishes for his master.
As the holiday drew to a close, Wes left the island three days early and returned to his dorm at Hogwarts. After being gone for a whole term, the room had gathered a thin layer of dust. Ever considerate, Jandy transformed into a cleaner and gave the place a thorough scrubbing.
While Jandy was busy cleaning, Wes decided to drop by Flourish and Blotts to check if the books he'd asked the shopkeeper to gather had arrived.
The moment Wes arrived at Diagon Alley, he noticed something unusual—Flourish and Blotts was packed to the brim. The entire shop was filled with people, and a long line had formed at the entrance.
The queue stretched far down the street, like a long serpent.
Over ninety percent of those in line were witches, each clutching a book tightly in their hands.
They huddled together, whispering and chatting in excited tones. Whenever something particularly thrilling was mentioned, they'd erupt into gleeful giggles—only to suddenly cover their mouths in embarrassment.
"What on earth is going on here today?"
Wes scanned the buzzing scene around him. Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, he had never seen Flourish and Blotts so lively.
"You don't know?"
A witch tilted her chin and looked Wes up and down like he was some bumpkin from the countryside.
"Today, Gilderoy Lockhart is holding a book signing at Flourish and Blotts."
"Who?"
Wes furrowed his brow, thinking hard before finally recalling who that was.
"Gilderoy Lockhart, the most famous adventurer and author in Britain!"
Another witch lifted her chin proudly, clearly impressed with her own knowledge.
She gave Wes a scornful glance and then ignored him altogether, as though even speaking to him was a waste of breath.
Wes felt baffled. Where was this weird sense of superiority even coming from?
Seeing how packed the bookshop was, Wes shook his head with a sigh. He had absolutely no interest in that kind of commotion.
"Better to come back when the crowd dies down."
With that, he turned and headed to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, ordered a cone, and sat there for a full hour.
But when he stepped out, the line outside Flourish and Blotts hadn't shrunk at all. Left with no choice, Wes used his privilege—as a super VIP customer of the bookstore. With the owner's help, he bypassed the line and entered the shop directly.
Naturally, this sparked complaints.
The witches shot angry looks at him, whispering resentful comments under their breath.
Wes couldn't care less. He just wanted to get his books and leave this noisy place.
"The books you ordered are all on that shelf," the shopkeeper called out hastily before diving back into his busy work. He didn't even have a moment to rest today.
Wes walked over and began quietly flipping through the books—each one handpicked and of great value. He had asked the owner to track them down for him.
However, the constant screams and squeals coming from the book signing kept breaking his concentration. The fangirls' shrill voices were giving him a headache.
Wes sighed and decided to just take the books home and read them later in peace.
Just then, a commotion at the signing table caught his attention.
"You're a disgrace to pure-bloods, making friends with Muggles!"
The voice was unmistakably that of a staunch pure-blood supremacist.
"Oh? Is the new Muggle Protection Act causing you trouble? Have you cleared out all those Dark artifacts in your house yet? Be careful—I might just catch you red-handed."
The mocking reply was full of biting sarcasm.
"Are you threatening me?"
Lucius Malfoy was so enraged he nearly pushed Arthur Weasley to the floor.
"How dare you!"
Molly Weasley's face turned crimson with fury as she hurled a book straight at Lucius.
Lucius reacted quickly and dodged with a tilt of his head.
"You—!"
Arthur stood up, his body trembling slightly from anger.
"Hit him, Dad!"
"Show him who's boss!"
The Weasley twins shouted excitedly, cheering on their father without the slightest fear of escalating things further.
Their faces were full of anticipation—they were clearly enjoying the chaos.
"Shut up, you red-haired paupers…"
Draco Malfoy sneered, lifting his chin arrogantly and spewing venom with glee.
Enraged by Draco's words, Ron shoved him hard, knocking him to the ground.
Lucius, throwing aside any pretense of being an adult, immediately tried to strike Ron.
That was the last straw for Arthur—he swung his fist and punched Lucius square in the eye.
Stunned by the sudden blow, Lucius froze for a second. Then his fury exploded.
Gone was the dignified pure-blood noble. He dove at Arthur, and the two began grappling on the ground like a pair of wild animals, all grace forgotten.
A crowd quickly gathered around to watch, faces lit with varying expressions of amusement, shock, and disbelief.
The reporters who had originally come to cover the signing event had their eyes light up.
They turned their cameras toward the brawling men, excitedly snapping photos. To them, this was front-page material.
Gilderoy Lockhart wandered over, a fake look of concern on his face.
"Gentlemen, please! There are plenty of books! I promise everyone will get a signed copy!"
Then he turned to the reporters and whispered, "This is the perfect PR boost. Just say that two of the Sacred Twenty-Eight started a brawl over my new book—what a headline!"
As he spoke, he subtly slipped some coins into one of the reporters' pockets. The reporter immediately understood and snapped several shots from different angles, making it look like Lockhart was heroically trying to break up the fight.
[With this stunt, my book sales are going to skyrocket!]
That thought made Lockhart's smile shine even brighter.
A group of female fans swooned at the sight of his dazzling grin, their eyes filled with adoration.
"Somebody break them up already!"
The bookstore owner finally shouted, having seen enough customers scared away by the fight.
Wes watched the entire scene with a blank expression. What a farce.
"Finite Incantatem."
A flash of magic burst through the air, forcefully separating Lucius and Arthur.
The two men staggered to their feet, both looking quite disheveled.
Lucius quickly smoothed out his robes to salvage some dignity.
However, his messy hair now looked like a bird's nest, windswept and wild, making him appear utterly ridiculous.
Arthur glanced around, noticing that the crowd had now formed several rings around them.
Always someone who cared about decorum, Arthur felt deeply humiliated.
This is utterly disgraceful.
"You'll regret this at the Ministry, Weasley!"
Lucius shouted, still seething.
Arthur stood tall, unfazed.
"Don't think I don't know about your little 'hobbies.' You—"
"Silence!"
Lucius shouted, cutting him off before he could finish.
The two men looked ready to start again. The atmosphere was once again growing tense.
"Gentlemen, you're blocking the entrance. Kindly step aside."
A calm voice broke the tension. Both Lucius and Arthur turned toward the speaker.
They saw a young wizard neither of them recognized. Lucius narrowed his eyes.
"And who might you be?"
"Professor Elwin! You're here too?"
Hermione immediately lit up at the sight of Wes and enthusiastically greeted him. She proudly introduced him to her parents.
"This is Professor Elwin, he teaches Runes at our school."
Wes gave a polite bow to Hermione's parents using traditional Muggle etiquette, which impressed them greatly.
They hadn't expected a professor at their daughter's magic school to know how to behave like a normal person.
"Like Hermione, I'm Muggle-born," Wes explained, noticing their surprised expressions.
Lucius curled his lip in disdain.
"Dumbledore really has lost his mind… hiring a Mud—"
Wes took a step forward and stared Lucius in the eye.
"Mr. Malfoy, you've certainly had your moment in the spotlight today. Shall we leave it at that?"
His tone was gentle, his smile warm.
But Lucius suddenly broke out in goosebumps. His instincts screamed danger.
[Impossible… Who is this young wizard? Why does he give me the same overwhelming pressure as that man?]