Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 377 Snape's tutoring, do you want such a blessing?

Following the career guidance session, fifth-grade students are about to experience what they've been most looking forward to—

OWLs Exam!

Just kidding, nobody would expect that, except maybe a genius like Hermione.

Everyone was listless; they stretched their arms, slumped their heads on the table, and simply couldn't muster the energy to study.

It feels really unpleasant to be tense all year.

Fortunately, Professor Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was always so innovative and well-received.

Everyone liked Professor Lupin; even the Slytherin students began to like this gentle and interesting professor.

Moreover, he also possesses considerable genuine skills.

For most students, they have rarely encountered such a reliable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor... Think about it, students in the fifth, sixth and seventh years have experienced Quirrell, who had his head glued to the back of his head, and those who have experienced Umbridge, how can they not cherish Professor Lupin now?

Of course, Professor Lockhart... oh no, I should say Ms. Rozier isn't bad either, but compared to Professor Lupin, she lacks a bit of gentleness.

"My favorite subject right now is Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Abercrombie, a first-year student, excitedly.

If you were to choose the course he dislikes the most, then even if he didn't say it, everyone would know what course it was.

Yes, what else could a Gryffindor hate so much, besides Snape, the Potions Master?

“Sometimes I really want to cast a shampoo spell on him,” a second-year student muttered in the Gryffindor common room.

Although he didn't mention names, everyone knew who he was talking about.

Think about it, in Hogwarts, who needs to wash their hair? Even if you put all the students together, they don't need to think about it.

Ron is currently on a diet, which is something he does outside of studying, because he ate too much recently and his body has become a bit out of shape.

Losing weight isn't just about facing upcoming exams, but also the upcoming Quidditch match—or, in Ron's words, he's decided to start preparing for the Auror exams now.

“I’ve decided to take my talents to the Aurors,” Ron said to Harry, grinning, while training Quidditch.

Then, Angelina knocked the broom off him with a running ball, and he fell to the ground with a thud.

"Sometimes I really wonder if the women of Gryffindor don't know what gentleness is."

Ron rubbed his nose, stood up, and sat back down on the broom, saying, "Look at Angelina, she's so violent. I really don't understand why George likes her. Is it just because she likes to hit people?"

“It’s hard to say that George has this particular hobby,” Harry said, floating beside Ron.

Harry was just there to make up the numbers in the practice match. After all, he didn't need to train much to catch the Golden Snitch. The main focus of the practice match should be on training the goalkeeper, the chaser, and the batter.

Harry didn't think catching the Golden Snitch in the practice match was of any use, but Angelina clearly didn't think so.

After the Quidditch practice match, Ron dejectedly carried his things to the Slytherin Headmaster's office.

After being baptized by Snape's fangs, he returned listlessly to the Gryffindor common room.

"You're the one who introduced Ron to that place, aren't you?" Hermione questioned Harry when Ron wasn't around.

"Haha, you found out." Harry said with an awkward laugh. "But this is a good thing, Hermione. Think about it, although the two of them don't get along very well, Ron's weakness is Potions. In Hogwarts, are there any other Potions Masters?"

"Do you think Ron can learn anything real?" Hermione asked Harry with some skepticism.

“I don’t know either,” Harry said, shrugging.

“Look, Ron’s back,” Hermione said, pointing over there. “Look how listless he is—good heavens, I can’t even imagine what Professor Snape must have been doing to him in his office.”

“Don’t pity me just because I’m a delicate flower,” Harry said in a low voice.

"What?" Hermione asked, turning around.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said with a smile.

Ron sat back down, looked up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, and let out a long sigh.

"Hey." He scratched his fiery red hair. "For the first time, I feel that studying potions is a happy thing—what do you guys think?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.

Feeling guilty, Harry stood up and left, leaving Hermione to comfort poor little Ron.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he found the two of them feeding each other in the Great Hall. Hermione was very considerate in feeding Ron, and Ron's expression was very irritating.

"Ha, this is the stench of being in love," Harry said, pursing his lips.

Hermione and Ron glanced at Harry but ignored him.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, sitting down beside him. "Why are you suddenly feeding Ron?"

"Because I got pricked by Professor Snape's Potions materials yesterday." Ron raised his right hand, which was already swollen and looked rather comical, with his five fingers resembling five short, chubby little radishes.

"Oh, sorry." Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud.

“Go ahead and laugh.” Ron sighed helplessly. “I don’t know what it is either. Anyway, it was fine last night, but it turned out like this when I woke up this morning. I think I’ll have to go to the school hospital later and see Mrs. Pomfrey.”

“Perhaps you could go to Professor Snape,” Hermione said to Ron.

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” Harry rolled his eyes. “You know what Professor Snape would say— ‘Oh, it seems our clever Mr. Weasley knew to call his poor old professor for help after getting a puncture wound—if only he had reported it last night.’”

He imitated her perfectly, and Hermione couldn't help but cover her mouth and laugh.

“Stop laughing.” Ron sighed. “Alright, I’d better go see Professor Snape, after all, he’s the Potions professor—or rather, I have to go to the school hospital to see Madam Pomfrey!”

However, Mrs. Pomfrey advised him to go see Professor Snape, which would allow him to suffer less.

Left with no other option, Ron sought help from Professor Snape. After enduring a long ordeal with Snape's fangs, Ron finally obtained the antidote.

After applying it to his arm, it returned to normal in fifteen minutes. "Sometimes I have to admit that Professor Snape is actually a good person," Ron said to Harry, seemingly enlightened. "Perhaps we've always misunderstood Professor Snape... Or maybe, despite his obvious disdain for us, deep down he actually cares about us quite a bit?"

"Oh no!" Harry slapped his thigh. "It seems the illness has shot into his brain at lightning speed, and now the relentless disease is devouring his brain cells—"

"How many butterbeers have you had to say that?" the Weasley twins behind him said sarcastically.

"Perhaps this thing might have an effect on the brain?" Hermione asked Harry hesitantly. "Should we... go see Professor Dumbledore?"

“No, why don’t you believe me? You two?” Ron put down the ointment in his hand, looked at the twins, then at Hermione and then at Harry: “Believe me, I really think Professor Snape is a good man!”

“If you’re sick, go see a doctor as soon as possible, Ron,” Neville said, looking at Ron with concern. “Waiting like this isn’t good for your health, don’t you think?”

Ron took a deep breath.

He chose not to argue further.

As the OWL exams approach, Ron isn't the only one behaving strangely.

Ernie McMillan of Hufflepuff developed an increasingly annoying habit of asking about other people's study schedules.

"How many hours do you think you can study a day?" he asked Harry and Ron anxiously as they lined up for Herbology class.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, “maybe a few hours.”

"Is it more or less than eight hours?"

“I think it should be less,” Ron said, a hint of wariness in his eyes.

“I can study for eight hours,” Ernie said, puffing out his chest. “Eight to nine hours. I study for an hour before breakfast every day. Eight hours on average. If all goes well, I can study for ten hours on the weekend. I studied for nine and a half hours on Monday. Tuesday wasn’t so good—only seven hours and fifteen minutes. Then Wednesday—”

“I’m not actually studying,” Ron said seriously.

"You're kidding, right?" Ernie asked with a laugh.

“No, I’m serious, Ernie.” Ron nodded earnestly. “Actually, reviewing isn’t really necessary. I think it’s better to focus on what you really need to learn. What do you think?”

"So what are you studying?" Ernie was completely taken aback by what he had just heard.

“Like Potions class,” Ron said, patting Ernie on the shoulder.

"You're kidding, Ron," Ernie said, a little annoyed. "Even if you're not going to tell me the truth, there's no need to lie!"

“No, it’s true,” Ron said. “I found a really great tutor to give me private lessons.”

"Wow!" Ernie believed it immediately, and he said enviously, "Really? You're so lucky, Ron..."

Ron interrupted him: "Do you really want the privilege of studying with Professor Snape?"

Ernie's eyes widened immediately.

“Uh—” he said, “I’d rather not have that kind of luck, Ron. I think it’s better to study on my own—than to study with Professor Snape.”

Reviewing? Or studying with Professor Snape?
Ernie really did think Ron was someone special.

At this point, Professor Sprout led them into the greenhouse.

A thriving black market has emerged among fifth and seventh graders seeking to improve their concentration, mental acuity, and sleep quality.

Eddie Cammitchell, a sixth-grade student in Ravenclaw, wants to sell Neville and Seamus a bottle of Bafétie, which they are very interested in.

Eddie confidently asserted that he achieved nine "excellent" grades in the OWLs exam last summer, all thanks to this, and that a whole pint only cost twelve gallons.

But before they could make the deal, Hermione confiscated Camiche's bottle and poured its contents down the toilet.

“You’re so heartless,” Seamus said, looking regretfully at the Bafite stimulant in the toilet. “This stuff is actually quite useful to us, Hermione—”

“But the side effects of this thing are obvious, Seamus,” Hermione said with a hint of exasperation. “While this thing will enhance your mental abilities, it will also leave you in a daze for a while. If I were you, I would never use this thing.”

"Then why would Camitcher still try to sell us something like this?" Simon asked, unwilling to give up.

"Because he wants to make money!" Hermione said helplessly.

Seeing that Seamus was still somewhat unwilling, Hermione added, "The ingredients list includes Vixen's dried manure. If you want to try it, I won't object."

Upon hearing this, Simo finally stopped thinking about the Nabafee brain-stimulating drug.

He doesn't want to become like Old Eight Finigan.

Even if the potion contained feces, he wouldn't want to try it.

Time flies, and June is here in the blink of an eye.

The castle grounds shimmered in the sunlight, as if they had just been painted; the clear sky was reflected on the sparkling, calm lake; and the smooth, satin-green grass occasionally rippled in the gentle breeze.

For fifth-grade students, the arrival of June means only one thing: their OWL exams are finally coming.

Teachers no longer assign homework; class time is used entirely to review questions that teachers believe are most likely to appear on the exam.

In their next Transfiguration class, they learned about the timing of the OWLs exam and the specific arrangements during the exam.

“As you can see,” Professor McGonagall said as the students copied down the exam dates and times on the blackboard, “your OWLs exams will last for two weeks. You’ll have written exams in the morning and practical exams in the afternoon… and of course, your astronomy practical exam is scheduled for the evening.”

"Now, I must remind you that your exam papers have been subjected to the strictest anti-cheating spells. Automatic answer quills are strictly prohibited from being brought into the exam hall, and there are also memory balls, detachable clip-on cuffs, and automatic error-correcting ink. I'm afraid I should say that it seems that every year there is at least one student who thinks he can evade the Wizarding Examinations Board's regulations, and I just hope that Gryffindor doesn't have such a person."

As she said this, Professor McGonagall instinctively looked for the Weasley twins.

Seeing that it was a fifth-grade Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall shook her head with a self-deprecating smile.

Indeed, who else but the Weasley twins would dare to do that? Even if they behaved well in OWLs, it was only because they didn't want to, not because they were afraid.

(End of this chapter)