HP: I beat the otome game at Hogwarts

This is a very beautiful giant golden eagle owl.

When the golden eagle saw Lyra return, it cleverly recognized her as the recipient and arrogantly stretched out a leg, gesturing for Lyra to take the package from its body.

Lyra readily accepted the package, unwrapping the black and gold paper. Judging from its feel and texture, it was worth a considerable amount of Galleons. If the wrapping paper was this valuable, the gift itself must be even more expensive.

And what was inside proved Lyra's conjecture.

A mithril bracelet studded with emeralds lay quietly in a black velvet gift box, its brilliance accentuated by the black background. Lyra tried the bracelet on her right wrist; with just a slight turn, it shimmered with dazzling light.

Besides the bracelet, there was also a letter in the package. Upon opening it, one could find beautiful cursive handwriting. The gist of the letter was that only genuine alchemical products could provide protection, and a well-mannered young lady wouldn't accept gifts from those sycophantic suitors, especially since they were all just junk. It was probably eight hundred words long and was a scathing critique of those counterfeit amulets.

Then he instructed her to always wear the bracelet close to her body, as it was a work of art from an alchemist and would protect her. He also used veiled language to tell her to be chaste and not to act like a mindless lion running around every night just because she was in the Gryphon House.

Finally, there is the initials: DM.

"..." Leila felt that the familiar, old-fashioned, and decadent style of the letter made it easy to guess who the sender was, even without a signature.

But... he just jumped out to curse her as the next victim, and then sent her rare and expensive alchemical protective products. Could it be that this pure-blooded platinum young master suffers from dissociative identity disorder?

Just as she was pondering how likely this was, the beautiful golden eagle began pecking at her fingers with its sharp beak, then raised its claws imperiously, gesturing for her to reply to its master.

This golden eagle, which is kept in a well-groomed and shiny environment, is just as arrogant as its owner.

However, Lyra has a secret weapon to deal with any owl's disobedience—homemade jerky made with a unique recipe.

She had previously won over another brown owl that frequently delivered messages in the same way—simply adding a few drops of daffodil tears while drying fresh rat meat strips was enough to win over any owl.

Sure enough, after she took out her secret-recipe jerky, both owls buried themselves in it and stopped urging her to reply.

Leila slowly continued unpacking the package brought by the other owl.

It was also a black velvet box and a letter.

Lyra raised an eyebrow; she probably already guessed what the other gift was.

Unsurprisingly, upon opening the box, a mithril bracelet inlaid with rubies lay quietly inside the black velvet box.

"......" So they're all supplied by the same store, right?

However, unlike the luxurious emerald bracelet we just saw, this bracelet features only one ruby, which is carved into the shape of a rose and has a faint iridescent sheen on its surface. The design is more elegant and simple.

Opening the letter, the familiar handwriting brought back the familiar formula; the passionate, boisterous love letter was back. Skipping a thousand words of sweet talk, the main content of the letter was that he had suddenly had a terrible dream in which she was in danger at school. Therefore, he specially sent her an alchemical ornament with protective properties, hoping she would carry it with her so that he wouldn't worry about her day and night while he was far away.

"Alright." Lyra casually put the ruby ​​bracelet on her left wrist.

One on each side, the main point is fairness.

*

Perhaps because the professors noticed the tense atmosphere in the castle recently, a week later, they posted a notice on the bulletin board in the hall: a dueling club would be held every evening, and students who participated were requested to bring their wands.

On the night of the first party, almost all the students in the school came, each holding their own magic wand and chattering excitedly.

The auditorium had been transformed: the long tables of the four colleges had disappeared, and a gilded stage had appeared along one wall, with hundreds of candles floating in the air, illuminating the auditorium clearly.

“I wonder who will teach us,” George guessed as he helped Lyra, Angelina, and the others push their way to the front of the stage.

"Maybe it's Flitwick. He was a dueling champion when he was young," Fred said, protecting Ginny as they walked forward, adding his own guess.

“If only it were Professor Dumbledore, he defeated the first Dark Lord—” Lyra said expectantly.

“No way, the headmaster is too busy,” Lee squeezed through from behind and overheard Lyra’s words. “I heard that even the Minister of Magic sends three letters a week to the headmaster asking for advice on how to handle the Ministry of Magic’s affairs!”

“Actually, as long as it’s not Lockhart—” Fred started wailing before he could finish.

Everyone quickly understood the reason—Gidero Lockhart walked triumphantly onto the stage, his brand-new crimson robe standing out vividly in the candlelight.

Standing next to Lockhart was none other than Snape, whose face and clothes were as black as his.

“Merlin, out of all the professors in the school, you just had to pick the worst combination…” George groaned.

After Snape took over, Lyra swore she heard George's groans echoing around her.

"Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me?" Lockhart asked with a bright smile, calling out to the students to move closer to the stage.

“That’s right,” Lockhart said. “Because I have protected myself countless times with my superior dueling skills—please refer to my published works for details—Professor Dumbledore wanted me to train you all thoroughly in case you ever need to defend yourselves, hence tonight’s Dueling Club!”

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” Lockhart said with a cheerful smile, a stark contrast to Snape’s gloomy expression that could stop a child from crying at night. “Professor Snape will assist me in giving a demonstration. Don’t worry, I won’t harm your Potions Professor!”

Judging from Snape's expression, the person who should be worried is definitely Lockhart, Lyra thought to herself.

Next, everyone watched as Lockhart innocently bowed, watched as Lockhart was sent flying to the ground by Snape like a rag doll, watched as Lockhart, pale with pain, stubbornly continued to preside over the event—

"Ahem, the demonstration is over. Next, we'll divide everyone into pairs. Professor Snape, could you please help with the groupings..."

So everyone watched as Snape walked toward the crowd with a cold smile.