Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 345 Menopause

Sure enough, Snape's face was even more gloomy than usual.

Harry swore that he hadn't looked this grim even when he saw Professor Snape facing his father, James Potter, in his memories.

It seems...

Harry thought with a hint of glee, "Besides my dad, there's someone else I hate even more than Snape."

At least Dad's big fat head (Mom's words) isn't that annoying, is it?
“Today we’ll continue preparing the enhancer. You’ll see the mixture you left over from last class. If you prepared it correctly, it should be ready by the weekend. The procedure is—” He waved his wand again, “—on the blackboard—begin.”

The students in the classroom immediately lowered their heads and began preparing the enhancement potion—

After giving his orders, Professor Snape turned around, his back to the students, and stood with his hands behind his back, saying nothing.

To everyone's disappointment, Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour taking notes in a corner.

Ron kept his head down, so engrossed in listening to her ask Snape questions that he became careless while preparing the medicine.

“Salamander blood, Ron!” Hermione hissed, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from adding the wrong ingredient a third time. “Not pomegranate juice!”

"Okay." Ron was clearly distracted and secretly looked up at Snape and Umbridge.

Ugh.

Why aren't these two fighting yet?

In fact, this wasn't just Ron's idea; the other students in the classroom, and even Slytherin, were all anticipating a clash of titans between Professor Snape and Umbridge.

It's really frustrating that these two haven't faced off yet.

Just then, Umbridge suddenly looked up and gave Ron a meaningful look.

Ron quickly lowered his head, pretending to be trying very hard.

He panicked immediately. Could it be that Umbridge had discovered that I was the one who knocked her unconscious that day?
The more Ron thought about it, the more uncertain he felt. If it weren't for the inconvenient time and place, he would have definitely dragged Harry and Hermione over to get to the bottom of things.

Ron was in a panic, but Umbridge suddenly stood up.

The students perked up and looked up to see what Umbridge and Professor Snape had to say to each other.

Ron thought viciously, "It would be best to say something Snape wouldn't like to hear, and let him put some little curse on Umbridge's face. That way, Umbridge won't pay attention to me."

Neville also looked up, pouring pomegranate juice into the crucible with his hand.

“Well, this class seems to be going quite deep,” Umbridge said lightly to Snape’s back, “but I doubt whether it’s advisable to teach them about potions like Enhancers—I think the Department would like to remove it from the curriculum.”

Snape slowly straightened up and turned to look at her.

“So, how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?” Umbridge asked, her quill ready to write on the whiteboard.

“Fourteen years.” Snape’s expression was inscrutable.

Crabbe and Goyle were staring intently at Professor Snape. Crabbe had unconsciously added a few drops of pale yellow liquid, and the potion immediately emitted a terrible hissing sound, turning from greenish-orange to orange.

Draco swiftly tapped the two troll brothers on the neck, raised his wand, and cast a silent Vanishing Charm, causing the cauldron that was about to explode to disappear from its spot.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, he wouldn't interrupt their conversation!

"You want to apply to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, don't you?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

“Yes,” Snape said in a low voice.

"But you didn't get approved?"

Snape pouted, clearly starting to show some reluctance.

Isn't this just rubbing salt into someone's wound?
“Obviously,” he said, somewhat impatiently.

Professor Umbridge was writing furiously on the writing board.

"You've applied to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts class multiple times since you entered the school, haven't you?"

“Yes,” Snape said softly, his lips barely moving.

He looked annoyed, and even his unfathomable eyes began to flicker slightly.

Harry had never seen Snape so out of control.

Do you know why Dumbledore repeatedly refused to use you?

Umbridge certainly noticed Snape's impatience, but she asked without a care.

“I suggest you ask him,” Snape replied curtly.

“I will,” Professor Umbridge said with a smile.

"Does it matter?" Snape asked, his dark eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” Professor Umbridge said. “The department wants a full understanding of the teachers’—uh—background.”

Upon hearing Umbridge's words, Professor Snape's expression grew even colder.

He chuckled but did not reply.

Seeing that he had asked enough questions, Umbridge stopped asking Snape and moved to Slytherin's seat to ask Pansy Parkinson about the details of the course.

But Pansy didn't seem to want to answer her; that fake smile on her face... was just too fake.

Professor Snape also stepped down from the podium. He first went to Crabbe and Goyle, and seeing the empty table in front of them—the cauldron had vanished—he asked expressionlessly and in a sinister tone, "I hope the cauldron wasn't swallowed by you two little trolls."

“Oh no, Professor.” Crabbe sold it out to Draco without hesitation: “Draco just cast a spell, and the cauldron vanished in a flash.”

Gao Er was behind him, making onomatopoeic sounds.

“Siuuuuuu~”

Professor Snape's face grew increasingly grim, as if he were about to burst into tears.

"Zero marks," Professor Snape said emotionlessly. "You two, go back and write me a detailed paper on how to prepare this enhancement potion. I want it on my podium in the next class, understand?" "Yes, Professor," Crabbe and Goyle replied readily.

“And you,” Professor Snape turned to Draco, “why did you use the Vanishing Charm in class?”

“Because Crabbe added pomegranate juice to the cauldron, Professor.” Draco, seeing that Crabbe and Goyle had betrayed him, didn’t hesitate to betray them in return. “I saw the potion hissing and about to splash out, so I used the Vanishing Charm to make it disappear in time to prevent it from hurting an innocent classmate.”

Snape's sinister expression finally broke into a slight smile, though he was forcing a smile.

“Slytherin loses ten points because of Crabbe and Goyle.” He finished speaking without pausing. “Mr. Malfoy, Slytherin gains fifteen points because of your timely intervention.”

The Slytherin students cheered and clapped their hands in celebration.

This addition and subtraction is equivalent to adding five points, and five points is still points!

Draco held his head high, adopting the air of a prefect.

After class, Umbridge grabbed her writing board and hurriedly left the Potions classroom.

Professor Snape stared at her retreating figure with a sinister look, as if he wanted to deliver a few sharp blows to Umbridge's face.

After leaving the Potions classroom, Ron whispered to himself, "If he could actually put a few spells on Umbridge's face, I would declare in a flash that my favorite professor is Professor Snape."

"Even if he makes you write a twenty-foot paper?" Hermione sneered repeatedly.

“I’d be happy to go even if it’s two hundred feet!” Ron’s eyes burned with excitement.

Hermione smacked her lips and shook her head.

“By the way, Harry,” Ron said with some concern, “I saw Umbridge give me a rather suspicious look today. What if she noticed…?”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione said from the side. “How could they possibly find you out? Of course, let’s talk about this back in the common room; there are too many people around here.”

“I don’t think even the common room is safe,” Ron said, scoffing. “I think that Cormac—yes, the jerk who’s competing with me for the Gryffindor goalie position—is definitely the bastard who snitched to Umbridge!”

After having dinner in the auditorium, the three of them went back to the common room to chat.

There weren't many people in the common room, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione found a corner to sit down.

“The information you stole is very useful; at least we’ve spoken to Newt about it,” Harry said to Ron. “But we haven’t been able to get in touch with Professor Dumbledore, and nobody knows what he’s up to.”

Hermione frowned and asked, "At this crucial moment, you're telling me Professor Dumbledore is missing?"

“That’s just how it is,” Harry said with a shrug. “Professor Dumbledore seems to have some other things to do. I guess he’ll be back at school once he’s done with them.”

“What about Umbridge?” Ron said with some worry. “I have a feeling that Umbridge knows something, and she might be up to no good…”

“Don’t overthink it.” Harry chuckled and patted Ron on the shoulder. “You’re just feeling guilty. How could Umbridge possibly know that you were the one who attacked her that night? I suggest you relax and not worry so much, right?”

“That’s true,” Ron said with a forced smile.

"It's Divination class soon," Harry said. "Cheer up, Umbridge definitely won't be bothering us this time, so you can relax, okay, buddy?"

“I’m thinking of skipping class, man,” Ron said, rubbing his head. “We don’t learn anything in divination class anyway, we’d just be wasting our time, don’t you think?”

“You can’t skip Divination class,” Hermione said seriously.

“Listen to who’s talking! You walked out of the divination class and kicked over the crystal ball! You hate Trelawney so much!” Ron protested.

“I don’t hate her,” Hermione said haughtily. “I just think she’s a terrible teacher, a real old liar! But you, Ronald Weasley, you’re a Gryffindor prefect! Are you going to set a bad example for your juniors? That way, when they skip class, they’ll say, ‘Oh my god, even Prefect Weasley is skipping class, so what right do you have to tell us what to do?’”

“I’m starting to regret being a prefect,” Ron said with a sigh, tearing off the Big Head Boy badge from his chest and slamming it on the table. “I’ve decided to give them to someone else now, what do you think?”

"I! Won't! Let! You! Do! This!" Hermione growled. "Ron!"

“Alright, alright.” Ron raised his hands in a French military salute. “You’re the prefect, you’re right about everything, so…would you like to come with us to the divination class later?”

“You know I didn’t choose.” Hermione sneered repeatedly.

Ron raised an eyebrow and sighed helplessly.

Half an hour later, the two of them sat in the hot, perfume-scented classroom of the divination class.

"It's a bit pungent," Ron whispered to Harry, then looked up at Professor Trelawney and frowned. "Hey buddy, have you noticed? Professor Trelawney seems to be in a bad mood."

Harry looked up at Trelawney and found that she did indeed seem a little uninterested.

She was like a walking corpse, mechanically handing out the "Dream Interpretation Guide" textbook to her classmates.

“I’d rather write the papers Snape assigned us than decipher some made-up dreams here—we all know dreams are made up, and nobody in their right mind remembers the specifics of their dreams anyway.” Ron whispered to Harry, “I’d rather write the papers Snape assigned us than decipher some made-up dreams here. We all know dreams are made up, and nobody in their right mind remembers the specifics of their dreams.”

Then, he felt a whooshing sound.

Professor Trelawney threw a copy of "The Dream Interpretation Guide" in his face.

Fortunately, Ron, as a Quidditch goalkeeper, reacted well and caught the textbook. However, he discovered that he was not the only one being treated this way. He had initially thought it was Professor Trelawney's punishment for him whispering, but now it seemed that she was throwing a book at Seamus's face.

Seamus, of course, lacked the reaction and agility of a Quidditch goalkeeper, and he was hit squarely by the book.

"Professor, what's wrong?" Simo asked, puzzled, reaching for the book "The Dream Interpretation Guide".

Professor Trelawney clearly had no desire to answer; her voice was somewhat hysterical: "Alright, let's begin! You all know what to do! Am I such a bad teacher that none of you have learned to open your textbooks?"

"What's wrong with her?" Simo leaned closer and asked uncertainly.

“It might be menopause.” Justin Finley of Hufflepuff chirped the professor over, “You know, Muggles have this saying that the age when middle-aged and older women are always inexplicably hysterical is called ‘menopause,’ just like puberty.”

“I’m afraid not,” Ron said gravely. He had read Umbridge’s report, and to be honest, it was quite insulting.

"How so?" Simo and Justin asked together.

“I suspect it’s Umbridge’s report,” Ron said in a low voice. “She must have done everything she could to insult Professor Trelawney in it, otherwise Professor Trelawney wouldn’t have been so defensive.”

"Oh dear, how could Umbridge be so wicked!" Justin frowned and cursed.

(End of this chapter)