Professor Quirrell Vomited All Over Everyone!

"What happened?" Hermione immediately furrowed her brow. "Is that Flying Broomstick old and poorly maintained?"

Hagrid frowned. "No, only Dark Magic can affect a Flying Broomstick."

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise, then immediately snatched the telescope Hagrid had brought over.

She looked around for a while and quickly zeroed in on someone who was casting a spell.

"Snape! He's the one casting the spell!"

"Huh?!" Ron's eyes widened.

"No, Professor Snape has gone mad! He's actually trying to kill Harry at a time like this!"

Hermione thrust the telescope in front of Ron's eyes. "Look!"

"Then what do we do?" Ron picked up the telescope and took a look. Sure enough, he saw Professor Snape muttering something incessantly with a mysterious expression.

"Of course we have to stop him!" Hermione stood up and was about to circle around most of the field to rush over to Snape.

Dylan spoke up at that moment. "Don't rush. Look at that."

He snatched the telescope from Ron's hands again, held it in front of Hermione, and adjusted it toward another direction.

"Professor Quirrell? He's casting a spell too?" Hermione froze.

"This professor, who holds a textbook every day, stammers through his lessons, and has a complexion all class long like the heel of an old woman's foot, can actually cast spells?!" Hermione was quite astonished.

Dylan's eyes widened slightly as he glanced at Hermione's rosy lips, which had parted slightly in shock.

"Did such vicious words really come out of that mouth?"

Dylan pursed his lips. "In any case, Quirrell's classes really are like an old woman's bound feet cloth—stinky and long. But it's also a fact that he's casting a spell."

"Besides, a Jinx will make Harry lose control of his Flying Broomstick, but a Counter-Curse will also let Harry regain control of it."

"But whether Quirrell is casting one kind of spell or the other, it's still strange, right?"

Hermione frowned and nodded lightly. "So what should we do?"

"Don't panic." Dylan moved his wand.

Although they were very far away, Dylan still pointed his wand in Quirrell's direction.

"You're going to cast a spell at him from here?!" Hermione turned around.

Dylan smiled faintly. "Finite Incantatem!"

He softly chanted the incantation for Finite Incantatem.

But in reality...

"Confundo!"

Dylan didn't dare use Dark Magic directly from this position. Even with a publicly known incantation to conceal it, he still didn't dare.

Because...

Quirrell wanted to test whether Old Dumbledore was at home, and Dylan wanted to know that too!

He still wasn't sure whether Old Dumbledore had left the school, much less whether the other party was keeping an eye on Quirrell.

Perhaps he had transformed into the appearance of some student and was skulking in a corner right now.

Dylan didn't want to take that risk.

What had happened in the underground classroom didn't matter. After all, unless someone had directly seen him use Dark Magic, even if they used a spell to observe his movements, they still couldn't determine exactly what spell he had used.

But there were too many people here, and Dylan really couldn't tell whether Old Dumbledore was hiding among them.

Compared to Quirrell, he felt that if Old Dumbledore really focused his attention on him, then perhaps Harry would grow up to fight not Voldemort, but him!

He might not even need to wait for Harry to grow up. Old Dumbledore might just strangle him on the spot!

"Ah!"

Just as Dylan's Confundus Charm crossed nearly half the field and struck Quirrell, who was struggling against Professor Snape—

Quirrell, who had just been about to cast another Jinx at Harry, suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head, and his mouth twitched.

He cast a Hex at himself.

His stomach hurt. His face suddenly turned deathly pale, his eyes bulged wide, his pupils contracted rapidly, and his bloodless lips trembled slightly.

Immediately afterward, Quirrell's throat convulsed violently. His mouth abruptly opened, his lower jaw seeming as if it might dislocate.

"Urk—!"

A stream of yellow-green vomit surged uncontrollably from his mouth, spreading forward in a fan-shaped spray.

The large mass of semi-liquid filth was mixed with soft, soggy chunks of bread and wisps of leafy greens, along with some indistinct, mushy substances.

Like ammunition fired from a shotgun, it shot straight toward the crowd ahead.

The people in the front row hadn't even had time to react before they were drenched by the sudden "Heavy Rain."

Some were splattered in the face and instinctively squeezed their eyes shut.

Some were sprayed on the body and jumped up in horror.

Others were still gaping and shouting, nervously watching Harry's uncontrolled figure in the sky, when—

"Urk!"

"Urk, urk, urk!"

"Urk!"

For a moment, it was as if a signal had been fired. Quite a few people in the front row joined in the passionate chorus.

The scene instantly descended into chaos.

Quirrell couldn't spare any thought for the others. His body leaned forward uncontrollably, both hands braced on his knees, as he continued vomiting without pause.

Professor Snape was just preparing to cast another spell at Harry when the Jinx on Harry had already vanished.

Then, on the Spectator Stands not far away, chaos immediately erupted.

He froze for a moment.

At the same time.

Hermione, who had been observing Quirrell through the telescope, hurriedly lowered it, covered her mouth with one hand, and looked at Dylan with a somewhat panicked expression.

"What happened? What's going on over there?" Ron asked urgently.

Hermione merely covered her mouth, her body jerking repeatedly, completely unable to speak.

"What happened already?!" Ron grew anxious and took the telescope from Hermione's hands.

He put it to his eye and looked.

"Professor Quirrell vomited all over them? Urk—!"

"Don't you dare throw up!" Dylan immediately glared at him.

Ron hurriedly shoved the telescope into Seamus's arms beside him and clamped both hands tightly over his own mouth.

Hermione took quite a while to recover. She opened her water cup and drank two mouthfuls before looking at Dylan.

"This... this was your doing?"

Dylan turned around and blinked innocently. "Hey! Don't falsely accuse me. I only used a Finite Incantatem just now! Besides, we're so far away. Maybe my spell didn't even reach him!"

This time, he hadn't displayed any attack effects.

If anyone claimed he had used some other spell, he could simply deny it.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

He had cast a spell just now, yet it hadn't produced any attack effects?

Suspicious!

"But it really was Quirrell who was using a Jinx on Harry?"

Hermione didn't dwell on this matter for long. Instead, she looked toward the other side of the field.

That side had already descended into chaos, with quite a few young wizards screaming and jostling their way through the crowd.

But professors soon came forward and began maintaining order.

The match did not end because of this. However, the young wizards in the circle centered on Quirrell, with the vomit as its radius—

had completely lost the mood to keep watching the match. They all left the field, rushing back to the dormitories to take a bath—

even though the professors had already used Scourgify on them.