I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 273 Wing Chun·Si Wen

"Is that even a question?" Louis answered without hesitation. "Of course I'm going to the ball with Catherine. She's the woman I love most."

Catherine, who had quietly arrived behind Louis, smiled sweetly upon hearing this.

Louis knew, of course, that Catherine was right behind him, but even if he hadn't, he would have made the same choice.

It's true that both the palm and the back of the hand are fleshy, but Catherine is clearly in his palm, and the flesh is thicker.

Louis felt a softness in his back, a faint fragrance wafted into his nostrils, and then a warm sensation spread across his face.

Catherine gave him a big kiss.

"Ah, Little Moon," Louis said, feigning surprise as if he had just noticed Catherine. "Weren't you in Defense Against the Dark Arts class? What are you doing here?"

"Class ended early. Aunt Emma told us about the ball in class and specifically asked me to come and keep an eye on you," Catherine said, but her eyes were full of satisfaction as she looked at Louis. "I'm so happy. I knew my little deer would keep me in his heart."

"You are the person I love most," Louis chuckled.

Harry, standing to the side, covered his face, making a gesture as if he had a toothache.

"What, you have a problem with that?" Catherine snorted.

"My tooth hurts..." Harry said sarcastically.

"If I were you, I wouldn't be bothered by a toothache," Louis advised earnestly. "I hope you understand one thing: as a champion of Hogwarts, not having a dance partner is extremely embarrassing—you wouldn't want to be laughed at, would you, Harry?"

Harry's mouth dropped open, as if he had already imagined the miserable prospect of attending the ball alone.

"Don't listen to his nonsense, Harry." Hermione and Ron walked over and flanked Harry like two henchmen. "You're a tough guy who defeated the Hungarian Hornet! Believe me, girls will be lining up to dance with you!"

"Does he have the guts to accept it?" Catherine sneered.

Just as Ron had predicted, the next day, a third-year Hufflepuff girl approached Harry and invited him to the ball. But Harry was rather surprised—he had never even spoken to this girl before, and he swore he was so surprised that he instinctively refused her invitation.

But Harry clearly didn't realize how much his actions hurt the third-grade girl, who looked deeply hurt and ran away crying.

That day, not only this girl, but also a second-year girl and a fifth-year girl came to invite him, but Harry refused them all. Mainly, the second-year girl was too young, and Harry felt a little hesitant to approach her; while the fifth-year girl was too tall, and Harry felt like he was facing Hagrid, not a girl.

Yes, this girl is enormous, almost as big as Hagrid...

"She's quite pretty," Ron said objectively and fairly after he had finished laughing.

"She's a foot taller than me!" Harry exclaimed, still shaken. "My God, I even thought I was facing Hagrid, oh my god..."

"It seems you don't know the advantages of an older woman," Louis commented succinctly and incisively. "Actually, being older is good too. Young people don't know the value of mature women and mistake young girls for treasures..."

"What is an eight-foot lady?" Draco asked in a low voice from behind, while Professor Binns was still chanting scriptures upstairs.

Louis gave them a brief explanation, and Draco clicked his tongue, indicating that it wasn't actually that bad.

I never expected Draco to be like this.

"Hey, you lot, can't you show some respect for Professor Binns?" Hermione turned around and glared at the group of students who were whispering in class, growling like a lion, "Don't go too far! No whispering during class."

"Who are you?" Draco looked at Harry with annoyance. "Are you Professor Granger? Good heavens, why should we listen to you?"

"It's not that we're not listening to the lecture, but listen to what Professor Binns is saying right now," Louis said, pointing to Professor Binns on the podium.

Okay, this class was supposed to be about the Middle Ages, but now Professor Binns is talking nonsense and has started talking about World War II.

You're a scholar of the history of magic, what are you talking about regarding Muggle history of World War II?

The students in the class didn't seem confused at all; this was Professor Binns' usual practice. It seemed that Professor Binns must have studied World War II history the night before, otherwise he wouldn't have absorbed it so well.

Of course, Professor Binns's class was the most popular among students, since in his class, everyone could do whatever they wanted without being penalized by the professor.

In fact, there was no chance of getting extra credit in Professor Binns' class. This ghostly professor was clearly someone who didn't care about anyone, even someone as clever as Hermione.

Even more outrageous, a few of the more audacious Gryffindor students, like Seamus over there, were playing Wizard's Chess with the person next to him. And the Slytherin students went even further; two girls were even happily knitting underneath.

Yes, you read that right, they are knitting sweaters.

You see, Slytherin girls have such quiet and gentle hobbies that most people can't emulate.

But in Snape's class, they weren't so lucky. Professor Snape's eyes were like those of a hawk hunting its prey, fixed on the students in the room.

The students in Potions class didn't dare to breathe, sitting there with their eyes closed and their minds focused, waiting for Snape to spew out his venom.

Snape's sinister gaze swept over the students as he announced something everyone hated—he would be conducting the final exams during the last class of the semester.

When he made the announcement, the atmosphere in the classroom instantly became tense, and the students dared not speak out against this despicable act.

"That's terrible, I'm about to punch him," Louis complained to Catherine.

Catherine sighed. "Do you think you're the only ones suffering? Professor Snape made us write two extra papers before the final exams... Oh my god, I really don't know what to do..."

"That's easy to do," Louis smiled. "You can ask Patchouli for help. She's always idle in the library; perhaps she could help you write a paper?"

Patchouli, of course, had no objection: "MmQ, of course. When I'm free at the library, I can help you write a couple of papers. I've also been studying potions in the wizarding world recently, so writing a paper shouldn't be a problem."

"Really?" Catherine was immediately delighted, but then she suddenly remembered Patchouli's comment about "having recently dabbled in" something, and asked hesitantly, "Then your Potions..."

He didn't say what came next, but the gist of it was that he didn't quite trust Patchouli.

Patchouli, of course, understood what Catherine meant. She smiled slightly and said, "Don't worry, I just memorized all the books on potions..."

Listen to this, is this even human language?

As expected of a great, immovable library, it has a natural talent for reading.

It's a real shame not to do the practice problems.

"Do you just stay cooped up in the library all day?" Catherine asked curiously. "I think you should go out for a walk and exercise; your body is too weak."

"It's an old habit, M.Q." Patchouli sighed. "That's just how mages' bodies are. I've gotten used to it over the years."

"It hurts to see you like this." Louis shrugged. "It's a vicious cycle. The less you exercise, the worse your body gets, and then you don't want to exercise anymore, creating a closed loop... Of course, given your current situation, you should probably stay home a bit longer. When Chromie comes, ask her if she has any good ideas on how to treat your weak body..."

"I've given up hope..." Patchouli smiled and didn't say anything more.

The next day during self-study, a sense of urgency became palpable. This was partly due to Professor Snape's inhuman behavior, and partly because the boys without dance partners were starting to get anxious.

You ask why girls aren't in a hurry? Don't be ridiculous, girls are a rare resource.

Louis, having nothing to do, went to the Great Hall to study and kill time. He saw Harry engrossed in writing something and leaned over to ask in a low voice, "How's it going, Harry? Have you solved the mystery yet?"

"No." Harry shook his head and sighed. "That golden egg, the piercing sound it made when you broke it...it gave me the creeps. Have you found a solution, Louis?"

"No, not at all." Louis shook his head. "Compared to that, there's a bigger, more pressing problem—have you found a dance partner?"

Harry sighed again. "No...it's too difficult. I always feel...sigh, a lot of people are looking for me, but I really think fewer of them want to go with her..."

"Did you ask my sister?" Louis chuckled. "Elizabeth doesn't seem to have a dance partner either; she'd really like to find someone to dance with."

"Elizabeth?" Harry actually thought about it carefully for a moment, then immediately shook his head to indicate no: "Forget it, she's too young..."

"You're so picky, yet you still want to go to the ball. I'm really torn." Louis shrugged, indicating that Harry was beyond help. "I've already found you an opportunity; it's up to you to seize it."

After saying that, Louis found a place to sit down casually, opened his notebook, and began to write a plan.

Fred, sitting opposite Harry, took out a crumpled piece of paper, glanced up at Snape, and seeing that Snape's attention was on Ravenclaw, he hit Harry with the crumpled paper.

"?" Harry looked puzzled. He didn't dare to speak loudly—Snape was looking for a reason to mess with him and didn't want to walk into the line of fire.

Fred held out his hand and gestured, saying, "I suggest you find a dance partner soon." He then mimed a dance move. "If you don't find one soon, all the good girls will be taken..."

"Why don't you look for it?" Harry mouthed, but since he was facing away from Snape, Snape couldn't see his mouth movements.

"Watch and learn," Fred mouthed, pointing to himself, tearing off a piece of paper, and throwing it at Angelina diagonally across from him.

Angelina looked at him questioningly and asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

"Would you like to come to the ball with me?" Fred asked Angelina, striking a pose as if he were attending a ball.

"Of course." Angelina nodded and readily accepted; she actually quite liked Fred.

Rumor has it that Angelina has been refusing invitations from others, waiting for Fred to extend an invitation to her.

"Did you learn something?" Fred turned to look at Harry, a smug look on his face.

Harry rolled his eyes at him without saying a word. This kind of "social butterfly" is really annoying.

"I think you should really think about this, Harry," Hermione said softly. "I have to go now. You can see who's suitable first, and if you're shy, I can help you invite her..."

After saying that, Hermione turned and left the Great Hall.

"I think Hermione makes a lot of sense. You can give it a try," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Huh? How do I try?" Harry was still hesitant. "It's best to invite her yourself and let her figure out what's going on..."

It's alright, Harry does have some sense of responsibility as a man, but only a little.

Snape, who had been watching them closely, noticed the two whispering to each other and floated over like a ghost, standing behind Harry and Ron, holding a book in his hand to cover his face.

"You're right, it's better to do these things yourself, otherwise you'll look like a coward." Ron agreed with Harry's point of view.

But no sooner had he finished speaking than Snape's notebook whistled through the air, giving each of them a loving slap on the head.

"Potter," Snape said, opening his mouth in a sarcastic tone, "I think you should know that it's study time now. If you want to have a friendly chat with Weasley, perhaps you can come to the Potions office tonight to work on some materials. I think you'll have plenty to talk about then."

Harry didn't say a word, nor did he dare to. He knew that if he talked back to Snape at this moment, Snape would definitely give him a friendly greeting with ten or a hundred words.

After Snape had walked away, Harry whispered, "Let's talk about this when we get back. We don't want Professor Snape to have anything against us."

"Hmm." Ron hummed in agreement, but couldn't resist the urge to complain. "I think Snape is definitely targeting you... I think when you were facing the dragon, he might not have prayed for your death, but he would definitely have been thinking why the dragon hadn't breathed a good mouthful of fire on you..."

Snape then saw the two whispering to each other. He rolled up the sleeves of his black robe and walked over, his movements resembling the starting stance of Wing Chun.

"It's been four years, I'm used to it." Harry lay back resignedly. "He's not just targeting me, he's targeting the entire Gryffindor..."

"But he clearly 'favors' you more, Harry..."

Ron was halfway through his sentence when Snape reached out and pressed his and Harry's heads hard against the table with a dull thud.

(End of this chapter)