Chapter 148 Pull out your wand, Professor

Ron hissed and stretched his head over, startling Crookshanks on his knees, and gave him a slap.

"Why not add points?" He was shocked, "We can continue to compete for the Academy Cup this year, we are in third place!"

"The third place, which is more than a hundred points behind the second place?" Harry asked softly.

Ron curled his lips: "It's only a hundred or so different from the first place."

"It's more than two hundred." Hermione said expressionlessly, "This is because we won the Quidditch Cup, otherwise it would be even worse."

"I was deducted more than 300 points just for fighting."

"More than three hundred!"

She paused and gritted her teeth: "It's true that George and Fred knew how to hide their whereabouts when they played pranks, but why did they forget to do this when they were fighting? They didn't run away after the fight and insisted on surrounding them.

Slytherins dancing, waiting for Snape to pass?"

"There's Malfoy in there." Ron shrank his head, but spoke very confidently, "I just didn't have time to rush over."

Hermione nodded: "Then next time, remember to block him in the bathroom, use a silencing charm, and blow it out. You can show off as much as you like."

"I've been in traffic jams several times." Ron sighed. "That's what George and Fred did, but now Malfoy is smart. He goes to the bathroom with several senior students, enters a cubicle, and...

The compartment must be sealed with a spell."

"Is the Malfoy family so poor that they want to make money in this way?" Harry sighed with emotion.

Ron was startled.

Hermione blushed and pushed Harry hard: "What terrible things are you talking about."

"What Harry said makes sense." Ron's eyes shone as he also took out the parchment and quill and started writing a letter, "Why can't it be like this?"

"Poor little Mr. Malfoy, he has made too many sacrifices for his family."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

As he wrote, Ron raised his head again: "But even if the difference is two hundred points, Professor Dumbledore can still add it for you."

He put down his pen and counted on his fingers: "You can get a hundred points for bringing back the portrait of Gryffindor, a hundred points for catching the dark wizard who harmed the castle, and a hundred points for driving away the wave on the Quidditch pitch.

It’s strange that we can add another fifty.”

As he counted, Ron gradually became excited.

"Have you ever wondered why Dumbledore gives me extra points at the end of term every year?" Harry asked him.

Ron said without thinking: "Of course it's because you are excellent. The things you do are not something that just any young wizard or even an adult wizard can do."

Hermione shook her head: "No!"

Harry looked at her.

"I feel that Professor Dumbledore is a little too eager." Hermione felt that her reaction just now seemed to be too intense, and raised her hand to rub her face, "He wants to praise Harry as a special one, and he is the only one who can do everything."

Someone who can solve it only by stepping forward.”

Ron muttered: "Isn't that what Harry is like?"

"Harry did this on his own merit." Hermione glanced at him, "not because of Professor Dumbledore's support."

Harry nodded in agreement: "If you want extra points, you should do it earlier. If you have to get it at the last moment, you will be hated."

"The little badgers are also working hard. Let me give you an example, Ron. For example, your mother promised you that you will be given a hundred galleons pocket money for the first three grades in your grade."

Ron shook his head in fear and waved his hands: "Too much, too much, just one galleon."

"Then I promise to give you one galleons of pocket money." Harry paused, glanced at Ron with pity, and continued, "You are almost in third place now. If at this time, Snape suddenly

Say, Malfoy did something very well a few months ago and added a few points to his final exam score, taking your place in third place. What would you do?"

"Kick him again!" Ron gritted his teeth.

"Badgers would think so, too." Harry nodded.

Ron shook his head like Crookshanks spinning in Harry's hand: "What's the matter? You're not as hated as Malfoy."

"Would it be better to replace Malfoy with Neville?" Harry glanced at him.

Ron paused, the words stuck in his throat and couldn't come out.

Neville

He does have a better relationship with himself, but that's one galleons

"Snape will not give Neville any points." Ron lowered his voice to a very low voice and spit it out quickly, his last stubbornness blooming in just a fleeting moment.

Hedwig and Bos quickly flew over. They were playing with the mermaid just now. They were all wet. They begged Harry and Hermione to release the spell and clean them up. Then they picked up the letter and flew to work.

They continued to discuss the Academy Cup.

Hermione and Harry gave Ron advice from time to time. Beating people is not just casual. Sacking is also an art. You can bag it once. Beating people until their noses are bruised and swollen is not a skill. George and Fred just block them.

once?

Next time I can still set him up, I can beat him till his nose is bruised and his face is swollen, and he even has to ask him to come to his door and beg for a beating, that's what he's capable of.

Harry is very experienced in this area.

Ron was taking notes more seriously than in any other class.

After a while, Hermione raised her hand and poked Harry in the face: "Harry, Snape is here." She couldn't poke other places, which were all wrapped in leather armor. She was always confused, ha.

Li can actually wear this armor every day.

Harry looked up.

Snape had already walked up to them and heard Hermione's address.

His expression remained unchanged and he stared at Harry: "Potter, I think we need to talk."

"Is this what I thought?" Harry waved his wand, directed his quill, and corrected several of Ron's spelling mistakes without even raising his head.

Snape gritted his teeth: "Yes."

Harry then raised his head and looked at Snape: "I thought you would delay even longer until the day I ran out of patience."

"Professor Dumbledore has talked to you?"

He turned his head and looked towards the eighth floor. Behind a window, there was a set of eyes and magic peeping at this place.

Snape said nothing. He pointed towards a more remote part of the lake and said, "Shall we go there to talk?"

Harry stood up.

Ron was about to stand up when Hermione waved her wand and with a bang, a book hit him on the head.

Wait until they go away.

"That's their business." Hermione shook her head, her eyes and tone a little worried.

The last few weeks before the holidays were sunny and cloudless.

Summer has just entered, and the breeze is blowing, but it has not yet mixed with that annoying and anxious atmosphere.

Harry and Snape looked at each other.

The two of them stood by the lake like laurel trees.

"Albus, should I have told you about the prophecy?" Snape's throat was dry and his voice was hoarse.

Harry nodded.

"Then he also told you about my past?" Snape turned his head away and looked towards the lake.

Harry shook his head: "He didn't say it, but I asked about it myself."

Snape was silent.

Harry continued: "Born in Spider End, with a drunk father and a love-minded mother."

Click——

Snape pulled his neck, turned his head sharply, and stared at Harry in disbelief, his eyes filled with shock, hatred, and shame.

This kind of thing.

"You were disobedient and asked Mrs. Dursley these things!" Snape struggled for a while, and the tightness in his chest turned into several coughs, which were spat out together with his questions.

Harry nodded: "Obviously, I am not the kind of good student who is obedient."

Snape clenched his wand: "What else?"

"You and my mother had a good relationship before, but they suddenly parted ways around fifth grade." Harry continued, "My godfather said it was because you called my mother a Mudblood."

Snape's face turned pale and his hands began to tremble. With the help of Occlumency, he prevented his emotions from collapsing immediately.

But this is more painful.

Despair was like a dull knife in his heart. It was gouging out one knife at a time without being able to cut it off, but each knife would bruise his heart. It was empty and could not bleed, and was overflowing with something that even Snape didn't know what it was.

"Then later, you became a Death Eater." Harry looked at him, his tone unusually calm, "I don't even know what happened in the meantime."
To be continued...