I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 32 I'm ashamed to say I only made a very small contribution (please read on, recommend, and vote with monthly tickets).

"Oh?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, neither confirming nor denying. "You've come up with a solution so quickly?"

It seems they don't care whether Patrick Black lives or dies.

In fact, he was aware of Patrick's misdeeds at school, otherwise he wouldn't have sent him to Durmstrang as an exchange student—if it weren't for Phineas's sake, he would have expelled him long ago.

It would be good if someone even worse could teach him a lesson.

But he's also quite concerned about Louis's mental state; it wouldn't be good if he became the next Tom.

Lewis, of course, was unaware of Dumbledore's inner thoughts. He said, "In order to implement your important spirit, Professor Snape and I, taking a holistic approach and considering all aspects, have ultimately concluded that it is quite difficult to get the various houses to reform their academic policies. You don't really think Professor McGonagall would listen to my suggestion and give the students two extra study periods, do you?"

"Hmm, you're right." Headmaster Dumbledore nodded, then asked, "So how did you do it?"

"Therefore, considering the current situation, I have decided to use Professor Snape's position as Potions teacher to implement a policy in the school—that is, to conduct monthly exams, midterm exams in the middle of the semester, and final exams at the end of the semester, and to award points to individuals and the house based on the exam results."

"In this way, Slytherin, who are ahead of the pack, will definitely get good results in the first monthly exam. If the heads of other houses don't want to give up the House Cup, they will definitely follow this policy, at least to prevent Slytherin from falling too far behind."

"In this way, our plan has been initially successful," Louis concluded. "I'm ashamed to say that we've only made a very small contribution."

Dumbledore looked at Louis and suddenly realized a horrifying truth.

If this kid were to pursue a wicked path, he'd be far more difficult to deal with than Voldemort. Although his methods and tactics are a bit naive, he's still the rightful successor to the troublemaker Dai Ying...

As is widely known, the two people most skilled in politics in the world are the Seres from the Far East and the British.

Sooner or later, he will have room to train and develop.

Dumbledore felt it was necessary to have a serious talk with him.

"Have you heard of Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked, as if he were trying to promote something.

"How could I not know, Professor?" Louis looked at Dumbledore with the kind of look one might give someone with dementia. "Professor, you really need to cut down on your sugar intake; your thinking is getting sluggish..."

"Oh, really?" Dumbledore belatedly realized that no wizard could possibly be unaware of Voldemort—even if they hadn't read the book, they should have heard their classmates mention him.

Louis clicked his tongue, a hint of disdain in his voice, and said, "Voldemort's magical skills are undoubtedly exceptional, but... Professor, don't you think he was rather low-class?"

"Hmm?" This time it was Dumbledore's turn to be puzzled. This was the first time he had heard such a statement... Ha, Voldemort's style is so low? That's a novel perspective.

"I feel like he has some serious illness. No normal person would be like this..." Louis didn't notice Jerry sneaking out of his shirt pocket and sliding down his robe like a slide to the ground, peeking furtively at the Sorting Hat.

"Professor, if you're worried I'll become like him... I can understand, after all, I went a bit too far with Senior Blake yesterday, but..." Louis put down his lemonade and said seriously, "Professor, you're completely overthinking it. I have a loving grandfather, uncles and aunts, and so many good friends. My family isn't short of money. Do you think I'd be doing something stupid like that?"

"You're right," Dumbledore laughed, his white beard, tied in braids, trembling. "Don't blame me for not warning you, your rat is crawling toward the Sorting Hat."

Louis glanced back at Jerry, who was climbing uphill, and without turning his head, reminded him, "Shouldn't you be the one worried, Professor? After all, this old hat isn't mine..."

Indeed, why is he panicking? The Sorting Hat isn't even his...

"Gryffindor!" Old Hat, who was dozing off, yelled, startling Jerry so much that he tumbled to the ground and fell flat on his face with the crisp sound of a gong.

Louis walked over, picked up Jerry's tail, and swung it twice to restore it. Dumbledore looked at Jerry with interest and asked, "This should be the mouse from that cartoon, right? If I remember correctly, his name is Jerry?"

"Yes, Professor." Louis patted Jerry on the head, signaling him not to wander off—a ruthless idea suddenly popped into his head.

Since they're both named Tom, why don't we send Jerry to give Professor Quirrell a hard time? We're going to Professor Quirrell's office tomorrow anyway, so we should at least give him a good look, right?

"What a remarkable mouse," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "I never imagined the Sorting Hat would put him in Gryffindor. If you ask me, he should have gone to another house."

"Where?" Not only Louis, but even Jerry looked at Dumbledore, his beard twitching.

"Azkaban." Dumbledore laughed after saying that. "Of course, if people were sent to Azkaban for a prank, I think the Weasley twins would have been there for two years already."

At this point, Dumbledore's expression turned somewhat wistful.

"Sigh, really. I used to run into them at night, but for some reason, one day I just stopped seeing them altogether." Dumbledore's tone was full of regret.

So you just happened to run into me and my senior? Louis thought to himself, but kept smiling on the surface.

"Alright, I have nothing more to do here, you can go back now." Headmaster Dumbledore's eyes were hidden behind his gleaming half-moon spectacles, making it impossible to see what he was thinking.

In my past life, I read fanfiction that said Headmaster Dumbledore liked to use Legilimency on students—that's a bit of a stretch. A hundred-year-old man, a wizard known as the White Lord, who has held a high position for many years, it would be strange if he couldn't see what was written on the faces of teenagers.

If he were really that shameless, would there even be Voldemort?

Leaving aside others, even his grandfather, Old Louis, could easily read his mind despite having the experience of two lifetimes.

In the words of an old man, "I've eaten more salt than you've eaten rice, how could I not know what you're thinking?"

"Okay, then I'll head back now, Professor." Louis put Jerry back in his jacket pocket, turned and left, leaving cleanly and without a trace.

On the way, I glanced at the portrait again. Phineas was still tied to the chair and kicking his legs wildly, looking quite pathetic.

(End of this chapter)

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