Hogwarts: Don't call me the Staff Maker

Chapter 98 He'll stop vomiting naturally once he's finished.

Chapter 99 He'll stop vomiting naturally once he's finished.

Siren hadn't expected that Harry would actually go up to Mrs. Pince and solemnly express his desire to stay at the library for a while.

Of course, this was obviously impossible, and Mrs. Pince refused without even thinking about it, and even suggested that Harry go to the school hospital.

After all, no reasonably normal person would leave their comfortable dorm room to sleep in the library.

Harry was also quite helpless. If Colin hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor and wouldn't be waiting in the common room all the time, he certainly wouldn't have wanted to live in the library.

"If all else fails, go to Hagrid," Siren said. "Exaggerate the situation a bit, and maybe he'll agree to put a bed in your cabin for you."

"Never mind, I was just kidding." Harry shook his head and said that playing the werewolf was really tiring, and Malfoy's constant mockery was also exhausting. That's why when he saw Colin, he impulsively ran to Mrs. Pince and asked, "Can I live in the library?"

"I really wish Lockhart could teach me how to talk to my admirers," Harry said half-jokingly. "And hopefully Colin would give up on taking a picture of me every day."

"Then you really don't know Lockhart. He'd love for someone to take his picture," Siron said. "And Lockhart also spends at least five hours a day replying to his admirers."

"Every day?" Harry unconsciously raised his voice. "Five hours?"

"It's at least five hours," Siren nodded. "That's what he said, anyway."

Now Harry really admired Lockhart. If he had to spend five hours a day writing letters, he would go crazy. Thinking about it that way, Colin, who just liked to say hello, didn't seem so annoying anymore.

Even playing the monster wasn't so hard to accept anymore—well, if Hermione could use a different spell, he felt his robes were getting a little lighter in color.

"Harry, so you were here."

Just then, Hermione came running over from a distance. She looked extremely nervous and stammered as soon as she saw me:

"I heard from Ron that you were a little upset. I'm sorry, Harry. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said.

"That's good," Hermione said softly. "I'm sorry, I was too excited at the time and didn't think much about it. I thought those spells wouldn't hurt you."

"Of course not, I'm not going to get hurt by a Cleansing Charm," Harry said with a smile. "Thanks to you, I haven't had to do laundry for the past few days."

Hermione was finally relieved to see that he could still joke around.

Ron arrived soon after, and the group went to the Great Hall for dinner. Harry was lucky this time; he didn't run into Lockhart or Colin.

The next day, on the weekend, Siron had planned to visit Hagrid with Harry and the others, but the three barks he heard from afar immediately changed his mind.

Since those were three different barks, after ruling out the possibility that Yaya had three different vocalizations, it could only mean that the dog had three heads.

"Hmm—you guys go ahead, I suddenly remembered I have something else to do," Xiren said, turning and walking into the castle before the three could react.

The last time Cerberus chased him, it might have been because of dark magic, but it's also possible that it had such intentions—so, let's find another time to visit Hagrid.

Upon returning to the castle, Celen went to his most familiar library, where he sat from morning until noon. After having a simple meal, he sat there from noon until the afternoon, then wrote down anything he didn't understand and went to Professor McGonagall for help.

By the time Celen came out of Professor McGonagall's office, it was already quite dark outside.

Great, another fulfilling day.

Helen stretched and walked toward the Great Hall. When she saw the dejected Gryffindor ghost by the corridor, she went over and comforted him for a few moments.

"Nick, I don't think this is your problem. Those Headless Horsemen have such rigid aesthetic standards."

Judging from his appearance, Siron knew without a doubt that he had been rejected by the Headless Hunters again; it had become a regular occurrence at Hogwarts almost every year.

"You also think I'm no different from them, right?" Nick, who had almost lost his head, immediately became agitated. "Just because I'm connected by less than half an inch of skin and cartilage, they rejected me 49 times!"

Siren felt it was more than that; the Headless Hunters seemed to have been around for a long time, and considering Nick's lingering resentment about it, it was probably a long-standing feud.

Nick probably only remembered it 49 times.

Xilen tried patting his arm, and it felt like putting his hand in ice water.

"Don't give up, I believe you will succeed someday."

"Thanks, you flatter me," said Nick, who was almost headless. "Oh, by the way, I just saw some Gryffindor students fighting with someone by the Black Lake. Do you want to go take a look—oh, I told you I had something else to do."

Before Siren could speak, Nick, who had almost lost his head, suddenly shouted, "I went back to the castle to find Minerva, otherwise the students will be at a disadvantage against Severus—that damned Patrick Delaney, of all times, he had to give me the letter!"

Then he plunged headfirst into the wall next to him and disappeared.

By this time, Xilun, having realized what was happening, had already started coming downstairs.

But as soon as he reached the second floor, a silver tabby cat gracefully landed on the railing next to him, then lightly leaped down to the first floor and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

It was obvious that the tabby cat was Professor McGonagall's Animagus. He had met Nick right outside Professor McGonagall's office, and since Nick was a ghost, he said he could find her with just a turn.

But to be fair, being able to transform into an Animagus is incredibly convenient; Professor McGonagall's tabby cat is practically using apartment floors as stairs to descend.

The speed is astonishing.

When Xilun finally ran out of the castle, he immediately saw two groups of people by the Black Lake.

Snape stood out the most, his face ashen, looking like he could explode at any moment. Malfoy was next to him, his head down, his shoulders shrugging.

His two henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, stood a little further away, one clutching his head and the other his arm, groaning and whimpering.

Standing opposite them were Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall, who had just arrived.

She changed back as soon as she left the castle and walked quickly over.

"Can anyone tell me what happened?!"

"It was him, Professor McGonagall!" Ron's face flushed red as he pointed at Malfoy. "He insulted Hermione—he called Hermione—"

"Mudblood," Hermione said, speaking up. "I don't know what that means. Of course, I can tell it's very rude."

"It's more than just rude," Ron gasped. "It's the most insulting thing he could think of."

"Mudblood—" Upon hearing this word, Professor McGonagall's face instantly turned frosty, and she abruptly looked at Malfoy.

Just then...

"vomit!"

Malfoy's shoulder twitched again, and several large, fat slugs, covered in what looked like mucus or saliva, fell from his mouth to the ground.

At that moment, the words Professor McGonagall wanted to say lingered in her mouth, then went back to her own mouth, and in the end, she said nothing at all.

Professor McGonagall looked up and her gaze fell on the other two people.

Besides Malfoy spitting out slugs, Crabbe and Goyle also suffered injuries of varying degrees, though it's unclear whether they were caused by magic or punches.

"It must be magic," Professor McGonagall thought to herself, comparing the sizes of the two figures.

As for their side, all three of them were fine, except for Ron's robe which was a little dusty.

"Thirty points deducted from Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall said. "And you three, solitary confinement."

"But Professor, it was Malfoy who spoke rudely first," Ron said, still seemingly unconvinced.

"Slytherin, deduct ten points." Professor McGonagall continued, "Mr. Malfoy, I hope you understand that some things cannot be said in school, and this represents the most basic etiquette of a wizard."

"Ugh... Ugh—" Malfoy was about to speak when another slug jumped out.

Professor McGonagall ignored him and looked at Snape, seemingly asking for his opinion.

"I'll take care of what's in confinement," Snape said.

"Of course," Professor McGonagall nodded.

"I hope you will remember today's lesson," Snape said, drawing out his words before turning and walking away.

"Wait, Professor," Crabbe called out hastily, "Draco, he's still spitting out slugs—"

"I see, Mr. Crabbe," said Snape. "Don't worry, he'll stop once he's finished vomiting."