Hogwarts Advanced Guide

Chapter 321 Two lessons from Umbridge on the first day?Just kill me!

Early the next morning, when Hera was heading to the Great Hall for breakfast, a group of Ravenclaw fourth years was running through the hall.They gathered together in groups and tacitly, as if they were avoiding something.Hera stood on tiptoe to check the situation. Hermione and her two good-for-nothing men were at the door of the auditorium. They seemed to be isolated by Ravenclaw students—or rather, they were isolated by all Hogwarts students.

Apparently, they believed the Ministry's story that they thought Harry was crazy and that he had killed Cedric, though it was not known how he had fooled Professor Lestrange and Professor Dumbledore.But obviously, they must have been bewitched by Harry Potter.

This can't help but make Hera a little discouraged. Last night, the Sorting Hat issued a warning to keep the various colleges united, but in the blink of an eye, they seemed to have fallen apart.

Hera sighed and walked towards the guest table.Professor Graplan was chatting with the professor of astronomy, Professor Sinista. Hagrid was absent again, which attracted special attention. However, Hera, who knew the inside story, knew that Hagrid might not be back until around Christmas at the earliest. Take it easy. That's not sure, it may be three to five years.

The enchanted ceiling also seemed to indicate that Hagrid was not going well: gray and gloomy.

"Good morning, Hera, are you still used to being back in the castle?" Professor McGonagall poked her head. She was also a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but due to her status, she didn't have much time to participate in the operations of the Order of the Phoenix. After all, she was not only the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts, but also the honorary president of the International Transfiguration Association. Of course, they originally wanted Dumbledore to take the position, but he politely refused.So they found Professor McGonagall.

Hera rubbed her neck, "It's not bad, if there are less eyesores."

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick looked at each other, they both knew who Hera was referring to.Undisputed, definitely Umbridge the Toad Lady.

"Dumbledore gave me another task, asking me to assist the toad—Umbridge. This is simply torturing me." Hera sighed. "I'd rather help Hagrid grow vegetables, even if it means breeding snails for him."

"Haha, all Hagrid's snails died before the summer vacation." Professor Flitwick said with a smile, but he was stared at by Professor McGonagall, and quickly stopped laughing.

"By the way, I think this year's Quidditch match will be very exciting. Do you know Angelina? It's the girl who likes to wear long twisted ponytails. She used to be the Chaser of the college team, but you all know." Professor McGonagall almost missed Quidditch on the first day of school, and even stopped playing as soon as they chatted. "Wood has already graduated, so I chose her to be the captain of the Quidditch team. It's such a pity for the game, but we need a new goalkeeper now"

Hera and Professor Flitwick looked at each other with wry smiles. Professor McGonagall was indeed a Quidditch fanatic.Hera knew this a long time ago, probably because she made an exception and recruited Harry as the Seeker.

Suddenly, swish, swish, clack, clack, hundreds of owls flew in from the high window.They fell all over the Great Hall, bringing letters and parcels to their owners, and beading everyone who was eating breakfast - including the rambunctious Professor McGonagall.

Apparently it was raining heavily outside, and an owl landed on his desk. It was the Quibbler he had ordered, but he didn't expect an issue to be delivered to him so soon, and he thought it would take a while.

"Do you like to read this?" Professor McGonagall and Flitwick looked at the package that Hera opened in surprise. Inside was the latest issue of a thick "Quieker". On the cover was a bunch of messy pictures, and Fudge could barely be recognized in the corner.

Hera shrugged indifferently, "I think this is a very interesting magazine, so I ordered it."

"Compared to this, I would rather believe in arithmetic and divination." Professor McGonagall complained, and sat back in her seat to enjoy breakfast.

Professor Flitwick winked at him and whispered, "Professor McGonagall hates Divination the most, but I think she may not hate Arithmancy that much."

Hera blinked at him as well, but didn't respond. He flipped through the magazine and looked at the open magazine while drinking beef rib soup.

"I'll go down and distribute the timetable first. This year's fifth-grade students will be preparing to take Owls. Their courses will be under a lot of pressure. I can't imagine how they will pass the Defense Against the Dark Arts course." Professor McGonagall muttered and walked down from the guest table, holding a thick stack of timetables in her hand. "I hope they can use snacks. I don't want to see that little wizard come to school crying next year."

"They need to take exams seriously," said Professor Flitwick, shaking his head, almost falling off his chair.

Hera said in a low voice with a dark face: "But the exam can't represent everything, right?"

"Of course not. This will directly affect their NEWTs scores, and it will directly determine what kind of jobs wizards can apply for." Professor Flitwick said.

Hera's face turned darker. He really wanted to agree with Professor Flitwick's words. He once thought so, but right now, isn't Hera himself sitting in the guest table at Hogwarts?
If it wasn't for those damn guys who destroyed Hera's review materials and hid his registration form, Hera believed that he would not have achieved such poor results in OWLs, and even had no chance to continue his studies at all.This made his last two years at Hogwarts extraordinarily 'leisure', and it also forced him to enter society earlier than other students.

If it wasn't for Hera's cleverness, and having learned a few tricks of portkeys, he might not even be able to do the smuggling business in Greece, and he would be unemployed after graduation--Lestrange's own surname made him difficult in the British wizarding world, not to mention that he didn't even have a certificate from NEWTs, and even if he wanted to find a part-time job at Bojinbok shop.

In the words of Mr. Birkin: "What? You don't even have NEWTs? Don't be silly, boy, I won't let you with me."

Professor McGonagall came back soon, and she specially copied a schedule for Hera, covering everything from the first grade to the seventh grade.After all, Hera needs to keep an eye on Umbridge, but what happened to the irrepressible smile in the corner of Professor McGonagall's eyes?
Hera had a few blue veins popping up on his forehead, so he wouldn't be so unlucky, right?
Hera ignored Professor McGonagall, he put "The Quibbler" on the chair aside, and looked down at the schedule.Fortunately, Ms. Toad did not appear in the auditorium to eat, and there was an extra seat at the guest table—of course, there are many seats vacant here, such as Professor Snape, who often brews potions and forgets to eat; such as Dumbledore, who is always busy and has no time to come downstairs to have breakfast with everyone; such as Professor Sybil of Divination, she is probably snoring in the office with her sherry wine in her arms;
The fifth grade is really an unlucky class of students. On the first day of school, they have to take two consecutive periods of Defense Against the Dark Arts, not to mention History of Magic, Divination and two Potions, which are notoriously troublesome subjects.

"I don't think I'm too busy today, just to attend two classes is enough." Hera stuffed the class schedule into her pocket, and briskly picked up a piece of chicken sandwich and bit into it.

Professor Flitwick glanced at him enviously, "I really envy you, I have to take 4 lessons of Charms today."

"I guess it's not too difficult for you, is it?" Hera said with a smile. "After all, you are a master of spells."

"Of course." Professor Flitwick puffed out his chest, but was soon discouraged. "But I can't control those little wizards. I have to concentrate so that they don't cast the wrong spell."

Hera nodded. Charms are a very rigorous subject, and a slight mistake will lead to terrible results.Professor Flitwick once mispronounced a syllable in class. When everyone realized it, there was a cow standing on his chest, which almost broke Professor Flitwick's ribs. He had to sleep in the school hospital for one night and drank five large bottles of potions in a row.

This is a very great joke in Hogwarts, and it is often used as a negative teaching material by Professor Flitwick's self-deprecation, but there are still many accidents in class every year.

"I'm getting ready to go to class. The first class will be the little wizards of the first grade. I hope they don't have astonishing talents like Mr. Finnigan." Professor Flitwick sighed and jumped off his chair, looking very melancholy.

Hera was very impressed by the name Finnigan. Any spell in his hands would turn into an unpretentious explosion in the end. He would make himself ashamed in almost every practical class, even potions class.

After Hera had breakfast, she sat on the steps outside the castle to enjoy the rain.
Well, he just didn't have much to do, Voldemort hadn't gotten his head around the mission, Dumbledore's mission to spy on Umbridge hadn't had the right chance, he hadn't seen Umbridge at all, and she had even missed her first breakfast at Hogwarts.

The sky was drizzling, so the outlines of the people crowded in the yard in twos and threes looked a bit blurred, and Hera put her hands in her pockets and fumbled repeatedly for the wand Dumbledore had given him.

Dumbledore repeatedly emphasized not to be blinded by power, and Hera became more curious about what magic power this wand has, and why did Dumbledore care so much about it?And why did he choose to give it to himself?

Hera, who couldn't understand all this, decided to go to Snape to discuss it, but when he opened the door of the dungeon, he clearly realized that he came at an untimely time.

Snape was in class, and he was standing in front of a cauldron to show the whole class the details of brewing the potion. The moment the door was pushed open, Snape's hand visibly shook, but fortunately, he steadied himself and did not add too many ingredients.

"Hera, I'm in class," Snape growled.

"Sorry, sorry." Hera apologized hastily. He didn't mean to break into the classroom. His eyes swept over Snape, just in time to see a few words written on the blackboard: palliative.

"Then you'd better leave my class." Snape said coldly, he almost destroyed a pot of potion, what a waste of money?

"Are you brewing a palliative?"

"Apparently our Mr. Lestrange has poor eyesight."

"Can I have a bottle after class? I feel like I need to calm down and relieve my restlessness and anxiety."

Snape was silent for about ten seconds, and just when everyone thought he was going to throw Hera out of the classroom violently, he nodded, even though the aura around him became colder.

"Then, Potter, the potion you brewed will be given to Hera after class," Snape said with a strange smile on his face. "His life is in your hands. Be careful: if you put the ingredients carelessly, it will cause the person taking the potion to fall into a deadly and sometimes irreversible lethargy, so you need to pay special attention to your behavior."

Hearing Snape's words, Harry and the others looked at Hera in despair. They didn't want to poison him to death, but their potion was uncertain.
"Ahem, Severus—"

"Shut up, this is my class." Snape waved his black robe and folded his hands on his chest, looking up and down at Hera with cold eyes.

"Okay...okay" Hera took a seat in the back of the classroom, feeling like he needed a palliative right now, without even having to wait until Umbridge's class.

The moderator is definitely the most difficult and labor-intensive one in the fifth grade course. The ingredients must be packed into the crucible according to the strict order and quantity, and the mixture must be stirred to the specified number of times, no more and no less, first clockwise, then counterclockwise. Anyway, it is very cumbersome, and Harry feels his head swell just by glancing at it, let alone Ron who is in his group.

Hera was sitting in the back row of the classroom with her head stretched slightly to watch Harry's brewing process. He didn't doubt the authenticity of Snape's words.But the classroom is clearly on the right track, at least their cauldrons are burning.

Snape came over, leaned over the table, and asked in a low voice, "What are you doing here?"

"I just have a headache just thinking about spying on that guy Umbridge. I want to come to find some potions of yours and ask you something." Hera said dryly. He couldn't say that he wanted two bottles of potions on a whim, could he?

Snape knew he would be pissed off.

"She's not an easy guy." Snape hesitated and whispered.

Hera looked at the steam of various colors filling the classroom, he was a little worried, "Severus, aren't you worried about your students? Something is obviously wrong with them!"

"I never expected that these guys could successfully brew a palliative potion once." Snape sneered, his eyes full of majesty as a master of potions.

"You—do it, anyway, this is your class."

(End of this chapter)