Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 323 Are you trying to pick a fight?
The history of magic is a boring subject, and everyone at Hogwarts knows that.

After all, the professor who tells everyone the history of magic is a ghost, a ghost who has lived at Hogwarts for nearly a thousand years.

Perhaps because he had been a ghost for so long, Professor Binns spoke in a panting, drawn-out tone that could almost certainly make someone drowsy within ten minutes; if the weather was hot, five minutes would be enough.

However, this is also a good thing for students who want to catch up on sleep, since Professor Binns only cares about lecturing and never cares what the students in the classroom are doing.

In other words, as long as they don't openly barbecue in class or do anything else excessive, Professor Binns will generally turn a blind eye.

Harry fell asleep after two minutes, while Ron, bored out of his mind, dragged Seamus to play a game of executioner on a corner of the parchment, while Hermione glared at them with sharp eyes.

If looks could cause harm, Ron and Seamus's skulls would probably be shaved shiny by now.

“I should say,” Harry stretched lazily after class, “that History of Magic is definitely one of my favorite subjects. I swear, I can fall asleep in History of Magic class faster than I can in bed.”

“I also really enjoy the history of magic,” Ron and Seamus said with a grin. “I prefer to call it ‘study time.’”

On the podium, Professor Binns floated away through the blackboard.

“What would happen if I didn’t lend you my notes this year?” Hermione asked Ron coldly.

“Our History of Magic OWLs will fail,” Ron said. “If you want to be tormented by your conscience, Hermione?”

“Hmph, that’s what you deserve,” she retorted sharply. “You didn’t pay any attention to his lectures, did you?”

“We’ve been trying,” Ron said. “We just don’t have your brain, your memory, your attention span—you’re just smarter than us—can’t you stop bringing up things we don’t want to talk about?”

"Hmph, don't try to sweet-talk me." Hermione said this, but her expression betrayed her true feelings.

“I think she must be very happy right now,” Harry said to Anne beside him in a low voice, turning his head.

“Oh…oh.” Anne nodded, glancing at Hermione and then at Ron.

Although she was assigned to Slytherin, she still preferred to be with her old friends.

Whenever she wasn't in the dorm, Annie would always look for Harry.

The Slytherin students were already used to this; every transfer student was like this, from Miss Grindelwald at the beginning to Miss Malfoy, and now Miss Salou, as if that scarred boy from Gryffindor had some kind of magic.

Sometimes they wondered if Potter had sprayed some kind of permanent love potion on himself.

"So, did you take notes?" Harry asked Anne.

“I have a notebook.” Anne took out her notebook and handed it to Harry. “Would you like to take a look?”

“Oh, not for now,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I can look into it before the exams, and besides, I’ve already taken the OWLs for fifth grade…”

“Yes,” Anne smiled as well. “I remember Miss Cassandra was quite pleased when you got ten O’s.”

"She's happy?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Anne said with a slight smile.

This was something Harry really didn't expect.

When get out of class ended, they planned to go outside the castle for some fresh air.

A light drizzle was falling from the sky; in England at this time of year, September was already quite chilly.

They found a secluded corner under a constantly dripping balcony, turned up the collars of their robes to ward off the September chill, and discussed what homework Snape would assign them in their first Potions class of the school year.

"Have you finished your homework?" Hermione turned to Ron and asked, "The homework Professor Snape assigned you last semester?"

“Of course I finished it,” Ron said proudly. “It’s just homework! I finished it a long time ago!”

“You seem quite pleased.” Hermione glanced at Ron. “I really hope you don’t make the same mistake again this year. You should know that there seems to be something special about you, right? If you talk badly about Professor Snape behind his back, he will definitely catch you.”

“I know.” Ron said dejectedly, “I will never say anything bad about him again, unless it’s somewhere he can’t go.”

"So, the Gryffindor common room." Harry patted Ron on the shoulder. "From now on, if you want to say something bad, just say it in your dorm room. I don't believe he'll show up in our dorm room and catch you red-handed, what do you say?"

“I think so too,” Ron nodded in agreement, but he still decided in his heart that his mother would never say anything bad about Snape again.

That saying is true: you can't teach someone everything, but you can learn something from experience. Anyway, Ron learned his lesson and got it right.

After getting some fresh air outside for a while, the school bell rang again.

"Time for class again," Ron sighed.

"We'll have to face it eventually; this is Potions class, after all," Harry said with a grin.

"Ugh..." Ron sighed, looking up at the sky. "I really don't want to go to this class... So, is there any other way for me to skip class, guys?"

"You should just go to class," Hermione said helplessly, shaking her head. "Whether you're happy or not, you still have to go to class, so you might as well go happily. What do you think?"

“You’re right.” Ron took a deep breath. “That’s absolutely true—whether you stick your neck out or pull it back, you’ll still get stabbed.”

“If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were talking about Louis XVI.” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed into wavy lines.

“I think,” Anne suddenly lowered her voice and said to Harry, “Harry, do you think all the Potions professors don’t get along with the Weasleys?”

"Hmm?" Harry turned and glanced at her.

“Think about it, didn’t Professor Sharp always like to target Gareth Weasley?” Anne reminded her.

Harry thought about it and realized that it was indeed true.

“What you said does make some sense,” Harry said in a low voice.

The Potions classroom was as cold and gloomy as ever; as soon as you entered, you could feel a chilling wind blowing in your face.

Anne tightened her robes; she had a feeling that the Potions classroom was different from Professor Sharp's.

As with the first class of every semester, Snape would always stride in from outside, his long black robe billowing.

"Quiet," Snape said coldly, closing the classroom door behind him.

He didn't actually need to order everyone to be quiet. The moment the door slammed shut, the entire class fell silent, all their fidgeting ceasing. Generally, Snape's mere presence was enough to silence the entire class.

That's the intimidating power of the old bat; even a typical professor doesn't possess that kind of power.

At Hogwarts, everyone gives a thumbs-up whenever Professor Snape is mentioned—of course, it's a downward thumbs-up.

Even a Slytherin like Draco sometimes can't resist the urge to cricket their Headmaster, let alone others.

Of course, it's possible that some people might be masochists.

“Before we begin our lessons today,” Snape said, striding to the podium and looking sternly at them, “I think I need to remind you that next June you will be taking an important exam, where you will prove how much you have learned about potion-making and potion-using. Although there are a few of you in this class who are indeed quite slow-witted, I expect you all to barely pass the OWLs exam, or I will… be very angry.”

His gaze fell on Neville's face this time, and Neville gasped in fright.

“I was referring to the intellectually dull ones,” Snape added, “specifically the three Gryffindor trolls.”

The students chuckled softly, mostly the gloating laughter of the Slytherin students.

Since it was Headmaster Slytherin's class, he wouldn't deduct points from the Slytherins, so the Slytherins should relax a little during class.

It's not that tight.

"Quiet!" Snape said again.

The classroom immediately fell silent again, with only the students' even breathing.

“Of course, after this year, many of you will no longer be able to attend my classes,” Snape continued. “I only select the best students for my NEWTs Potions class, which means that some of us will have to say goodbye.”

As Professor Snape spoke, he picked up his wand and tapped it on the blackboard.

“Of course,” he said. “That happy farewell is still a year away before I can stop seeing you silly little monsters.”

"But I need to warn you that if you can't study hard and achieve a satisfactory result above OWLs, then I suggest that you try not to reveal the name of your poor old professor when others ask who your Potions professor is."

Harry knew Snape was serious. After all, as a Potions Master, it was indeed a bit embarrassing to have students who failed their exams.

You'll be lucky if they don't reveal your old professor's name if you embarrass yourself in the future.

A short burst of giggling laughter came from the classroom, but it quickly disappeared.

Professor Snape grunted and tapped the blackboard with his wand again.

"The medicine you need to prepare today is a calming medicine, which can soothe and relieve agitation and anxiety. Note: If you are careless when mixing the ingredients, it can cause the person taking the medicine to fall into a deep, sometimes even irreversible, drowsy state, so you need to be extra careful with your behavior."

Professor Snape's voice was loud, and towards the end he emphasized the word 'extra attention' and turned his gaze toward Harry, who was lost in thought.

“Potter!” Snape suddenly mentioned Harry’s name.

"Huh?" Harry didn't react for a moment, but Anne reminded him in a voice barely audible.

He then stood up and looked at Professor Snape, wondering why the other man had suddenly called his name.

“Potter, tell me!” Snape said in a deep voice, “What are the effects of the mitigating potion?”

“It can calm and soothe feelings of irritability and anxiety,” Harry replied, repeating the precautions Snape had just mentioned.

Snape laughed, clearly in pain.

"Trying to be clever, Gryffindor loses two points!" he said sinisterly. "Skimming in class, Gryffindor loses another three points!"

Harry: ...

Are you trying to pick a fight?
But despite thinking it, Harry couldn't bring himself to say it, after all, Snape was the professor.

Oh well, what's wrong with letting him say a few words? It's not like he'll lose anything. Let him say whatever he wants!
“If you don’t sit down,” Snape said, looking at Harry who was still standing as straight as a pine tree, “I’ll deduct a few more points from Gryffindor.”

Harry didn't say anything and just sat down.

"Does he have a grudge against you?" Annie asked in a low voice.

"Let's talk after class," Ha replied to Annie, his voice strained through his teeth.

He really didn't want Snape to find any more fault with him, that old man!

On the platform, Snape was explaining in detail how to make the mitigating potion.

Below the podium, Harry was resting his chin on his hand, lost in thought. After all, he had learned how to brew the soothing potion from Professor Sharp.

After Snape assigned the task of brewing potions in class, Harry and Anne worked together and quickly brewed a potion of soothing potion.

Seeing Harry stop what he was doing, with a pot of potion already brewed in front of him, Snape quickly walked over, stirred the pot in Harry's pot, smelled it with his fan, and looked at Harry with his hawk-like eyes.

“Gryffindor loses two points for not following the correct steps to brew the potion.” Snape’s sinister voice rang out again.

Harry:?
He really couldn't hold back anymore, but considering it wasn't appropriate to reprimand the professor in Potions class, he forced himself to restrain himself.

He realized that Snape had come here today to deliberately cause trouble!

Harry was the first to rush out of the classroom after finally getting through get out of class.

I don't want to stay in classroom B for even a minute longer.

However, as soon as he stepped outside, he saw Hedwig waiting for him at the classroom door with a letter in her mouth.

He stepped forward, picked up the letter, and discovered it was written to him by Sirius Black.

When Harry opened it up, he almost fainted.

"No wonder Snape was targeting me like this!" Harry gritted his teeth as he looked at the letter. It turned out that his godfather had specially mailed Snape a photo album of Lily and James, along with some old photos.

Oh, it's a photo of James, the other three, and Snape hanging up. It's pretty damn wicked.

Damn it, you need pig's heart for cardamom?
For a moment, Harry suddenly understood why Snape had suddenly targeted him.

(End of this chapter)