I Need Music! Muggle Studies!

"What's going on down there?" Kayson asked curiously.

"A midnight duel between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Nothing worth watching," Snape said coldly.

Only then did Kayson turn toward the source of the commotion. Unfortunately, they were too far away for him to hear what they were saying.

And both sides could be considered acquaintances. There were the four Gryffindor students: Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione.

When Kayson had previously heard Harry and Neville talking, he had thought their relationship with Hermione was not entirely good. It seemed that only after Hermione had helped Neville and suggested he come to Kayson's office had the few of them grown closer.

The Slytherin students on the other side were acquaintances as well. Draco Malfoy was leading them, though Kayson did not know the other two.

Still, Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy, had seemed full of the restrained aloofness of the upper class, while his son was all swagger and arrogance.

Honestly, if it were not for their nearly identical bone structure and hair, he would have suspected...

He could not suspect anything. Any further suspicion would be rude.

"Isn't anyone going to stop them?" Kayson asked Snape beside him.

"They could, but there's no need. Slytherin and Gryffindor have been fighting for so many years. There's no need to care about such trivial matters. At most, a few people like to meddle."

"Meddlers?"

"That Muggle-born."

"...Mr. Filch? He's a Muggle-born?"

"A Muggle-born who refuses to accept his fate. Most of the wages Dumbledore has paid him over the years have gone to wave after wave of swindlers targeting wealthy Muggle-borns," Snape explained, unusually.

"I see." Kayson nodded. The dinner-time farce had not caused the slightest stir.

Just as he finished dinner and was about to return to his office, Snape suddenly spoke.

"Oh, right. In a moment, you and I need to go to that corridor. I've already brewed the harmless potion you mentioned last time: some Draught of Living Death that can take effect through the air and skin contact. But I still need to load it into your alchemical creation."

"No problem. Now?"

"Now."

The two left the Great Hall and headed straight for that corridor.

When they reached the empty classroom, a record player suddenly appeared in Kayson's hand, along with a stack of records in his other hand, fanned out like an opened deck of cards as he picked through them.

"What are you doing?"

"Hagrid said that if the three-headed dog listened to music, it would fall asleep. I'm choosing something."

"There's no need for that." Snape shook his head, drew his wand, and walked straight in.

"It's just a beast. All it takes is a Stupefy..."

"Ah!"

"I need music! Muggle Studies! Muggle Studies!" Music.

Kayson's mouth twitched uncontrollably. He immediately stopped caring about the record player and records in his hands, and sent a chunk of Obsidian flying out. It split into three in midair and smashed heavily into the three-headed dog's three heads.

"Hiss... That beast bites fast." Snape rolled up his trouser leg and looked at the bloody, mangled wound on his calf.

"You were too careless." Kayson kindly supplied the excuse Snape was too embarrassed to say himself.

"Please, support me a little."

"Of course." Kayson reached out and held Snape by the shoulder. Snape then took a bottle of bright red potion from his pocket and poured it directly over the wound on his calf.

"Do you have any bandages or something?"

"Uh, I think this should do. It hasn't been sterilized, though." Kayson took out a large wad of wool, bunched it up, and tore at it.

"It's fine." Snape took it, then brought out more potion and sprinkled it over the wound.

"This should be enough."

Snape nodded. After bending down to dress the wound, the two fought their way through the obstacles until they reached the final stage.

This once again proved the quality of Hagrid's defenses.

The other professors, Kayson included, had set their challenges for Quirrell, Harry, and the others to break through for fun.

Only Hagrid had arranged his with the goal of killing intruders.

That was why he was so earnest.

The two loaded the potion into the launcher. Halfway through, Kayson picked up a bottle and examined it curiously.

"This potion?"

"It's genuine."

"All right, though this time our potion might not get the chance to be useful."

"We can recover it later. Let's go."

The two returned to the empty classroom containing the three-headed dog. Kayson cautiously took out a feather and tested the dog's breathing.

Since he was not sure whether the huge creature had three sets of lungs, he deliberately checked all three heads.

Only after confirming that all of them were alive did he breathe a sigh of relief.

After all, Hagrid loved magical creatures so much. If this big fellow had died, he would definitely have been heartbroken.

"Is your injury all right?" he asked Snape.

"The three-headed dog's teeth carry Dark Magic. Healing potions and dittany are useless. I can only wait for it to heal on its own."

"Uh, do you need any help? A wheelchair, perhaps? Don't worry, it would be entirely magic-powered. You wouldn't need to push the wheels yourself."

"No need." Snape's mouth twitched.

"All right. If you need anything, just have a student come find me with a sealed envelope."

"...If I need to, I will."

"Mm-hm. Do you want me to help you back to your office?"

"No."

Snape left alone with a livid face, while the two points of favorability from Snape before Kayson mercilessly exposed the persona he was trying to maintain.

"Isn't this just classic tsundere?" Kayson muttered in confusion.

Back in his office, he looked at the class schedule propped up on his desk. No classes tomorrow. Excellent. He could stay up late tonight, or even not sleep at all.

This made him once again sigh at how comfortable life was for an elective professor at Hogwarts. Compared with required-course professors, who taught seven years across four houses and were nearly fully booked every day, starting at eight each morning...

Elective professors had it far more comfortable.

Because young wizards had the right not to take the course, most—one could even say all—years attended class with all four houses together. By that calculation, there were only four classes a week.

If Kayson were a little harsher on himself and taught all four classes in a single day, then he would practically be on vacation all the time, truly working one day and resting six.

But he did not do that. For one thing, it was indeed too tiring. For another, working one day and resting six might very well draw the gaze of some indescribable existence.

Which would then assign him a whole pile of tasks.

He was talking about Dumbledore!

After imagining all that, Kayson successfully lost all interest in quietly listening to records in his office.