pertwk Chapter 36 Quidditch
Chapter 36 Quidditch
Landric seemed to treat Draco's retelling as a joke, but he actually remembered the three questions Snape had asked.
I feel sorry for Lily's death? Hmph, what a veiled confession.
After skipping a potions class, Landric felt that his morning of sleep was really good. Could he skip today's flying class as well?
Brave people enjoy the world first! He decided to skip another class, since he didn't like flying class anyway.
It's decided then. Let's go find Snape. "Little Dragon, you'd better go to your flying lesson this afternoon, okay?"
Draco: ? ? ?
No, why did I go to class obediently this afternoon? What happened?
Seemingly sensing Draco's confusion, he said, "I don't want to go. I'll go find Professor Snape."
Is that even possible? Draco, a small man, was filled with great doubt and envy. He wanted to ask for leave too, but he knew his place. The Godfather probably wouldn't even glance at him, and might even tell Lucius that he had skipped class.
Draco was like a left-behind child in a school where one of his best friends was absent and the other was left behind.
A tonic! A tonic.
Unfortunately, Landric couldn't hear Draco's inner wailing, and even if he did, he might pretend not to understand.
"Professor?" Landric knocked on the wooden cellar door, the distinctive bitter smell of potions seeping out from the cracks.
Upon hearing his beloved's voice, Snape paused in his hand, stirring the potion. He then slowly put down the stirring stick, turned to face the door, and tried his best to make his tone sound indifferent and normal: "Come in."
Landric pushed open the door, and an even stronger aroma of potions wafted out.
He approached Professor Snape with a gentle smile. "Professor, I don't want to take flying lessons."
Snape was initially delighted by the child's affectionate tone, his smile just beginning to rise slightly, but then he heard that his little darling didn't want to go to flying class, so his smile eventually returned to a flat line.
Why?
"You should probably know that attending every class at Hogwarts is a student's obligation."
Strictly speaking, Snape didn't want to agree, because if he did, Dumbledore, that old bee, would definitely want a reason.
With Dumbledore's intelligence, Snape had no doubt that Dumbledore had already guessed that he had some connection with Landric—a smile at the Sorting Ceremony was enough.
Who knows if this castle is under Dumbledore's constant surveillance?
If he agrees now, then in Dumbledore's eyes, he will be an "exception" or "favor," since not everyone has the ability to make the Slytherin Snake King treat him with leniency.
The flight instructor's problem was easily solved, but what followed was an invitation to speak with Dumbledore, which meant trouble and a fine-tuning of the game.
After all, in Dumbledore's eyes, he was just someone who was always ready to dedicate himself to Harry Potter.
But if someone who is always ready to give has something to care about, then their selfishness will increase.
Did Landric not know about these psychological activities?
Who can say for sure? All he wants now is exemption from flying lessons. As a father, Snape could probably grant his son's little wish.
As for anything else, he didn't want to consider it.
Snape sighed inwardly, looked up at Landric, and met his expectant gaze, his defenses crumbled completely.
He ultimately couldn't bring himself to refuse the child, even though he knew all the trouble that decision might bring.
"This is the last time." Snape tried to make his tone sound stern, but his slightly softened eyes betrayed him.
Upon hearing this, Landric's face instantly lit up with a bright smile. "Thank you, Professor! You're the best!" he said, leaning forward and affectionately tugging at Snape's sleeve.
Snape's cheeks flushed slightly. He turned his head away and gently pulled his hand away from Landric's. "Go play. Don't bother me while I'm preparing the medicine."
Despite saying that, there was not a hint of reproach in his voice.
Landric left the cellar with satisfaction and turned to head to the second floor.
Library, gogogo.
Hmm, I'll sneak off for now, then go to Snape's place later to do it openly. Even if I'm caught then, I'll have the professor's signature, so this unsigned nighttime outing won't happen.
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"Malfoy, bring it here!"
It's about 3:30 in the afternoon, and almost all the first-year students of Slytherin have gathered here, including Gryffindor.
Draco sneered mockingly, "Putt, who do you think you are?"
"Let me think about where to put it," Malfoy said, bobbing the crystal ball up and down in his hand.
"Malfoy! Give it back to Longbottom!"
"Heh, you want it? Then come and take it." The crystal ball was suddenly tossed into the air.
A flying broom shot out like an arrow, oh, and there was a broken thing on it.
Draco threw the ball at a very tricky angle because he didn't want Harry Potter to get it.
Harry caught the ball in an extremely difficult pose.
"Harry Potter!! What are you doing?! How could you?!"
Draco's previously displeased expression at Harry catching the ball began to brighten again.
Because Professor McGonagall strode over.
Professor McGonagall's pace was so fast it almost created a gust of wind, her black robes billowing across the lawn. Harry's knuckles were white as he gripped the broom handle, the Longbottom's Memory Orb still digging painfully into his pocket.
"Come with me, Mr. Potter." The witch's glasses gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
Harry felt Draco's gloating laughter was like a viper's hiss.
Harry noticed that his platinum-blonde head was deliberately turned toward the back of the Slytherin line—where it was empty.
Meanwhile, in the history of magic classroom on the third floor of the castle, Professor Binns's dry voice seeped through the walls. Landric pushed the "Higher Runebook" towards the window, the afternoon sun baking the runes on the parchment to give it a faint pine scent.
A commotion came from the corridor. He looked up and saw Professor McGonagall leading the Savior past the window, their black robes billowing like dark clouds.
"Looks like the butterfly's wings aren't flapping hard enough..." The boy poked his cheek with the tip of his quill pen, the ink spreading across his chin like a beauty mark.
Mrs. Pince cast a warning glance from behind the bookshelf, and he obediently raised his hands to indicate that he would remain quiet.
The first flight lesson for freshmen in both colleges was introduced in a prank.
Draco always walks with a swagger when he leaves class.
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"Wood, this is Harry Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice trembled unusually. "I think I've found the Seeker for you."
……