Taking Office

Hermione frowned as she read the newspaper again, then angrily flipped it face down on the table and began eating her breakfast.

"Where's Harry? Hasn't he woken up yet?"

"You guessed right," Ron pouted. "Judging by his look, he was probably dragged to that messy study by the Old Bat again last night."

"If you want to put it nicely, that's called studying!" Hermione was a little envious. Those were ancient books from thousands of years ago.

"Studying what..." Ron felt indignant on behalf of his good friend. "That's clearly exploitation! Bats don't need sleep, but Harry does!"

He sat down, picked up the bread on the table, and then casually grabbed the newspaper Hermione had tossed aside. "Speaking of which, I still don't know what exactly happened that day."

"A narcissist's monologue, a criminal recounting the crime scene," Hermione stirred her milk, her small face creased. "I knew he didn't have any real talent long ago, but who could have imagined that he stole all those things?"

Ron widened his eyes exaggeratedly and looked at Hermione. "You knew long ago that he had no real talent?"

Hermione's face turned red. She snatched the newspaper from Ron's hand. "Just eat your breakfast!"

Then she unfolded the newspaper again.

This page detailed how Lockhart, drunk at a Christmas banquet, had confessed everything he had lied about. And this Christmas banquet wasn't just any banquet; many Ministry of Magic employees, reporters, and scholars were present. It was enough to simplify the tedious investigation from exposure to imprisonment. That very night, he was sent to Azkaban for maliciously injuring someone with a curse.

Even more coincidentally, the Auror who arrested him and sent him to Azkaban that night, Pete Caverlin, was also a relative of one of the victims. He had been working with other suspected victims for years to investigate the unknown individual who only used the Obliviate spell, but they hadn't been able to find the exact culprit, so they had kept the information on file without submitting it.

Therefore, as soon as Lockhart was detained, those documents were sent to the Wizengamot, doubling his crimes.

Hermione looked at the newspaper, her brow furrowed, her spoon tapping the bottom of her cup rhythmically.

She felt that everything was too coincidental, something was wrong—in an instant, all sorts of conspiracy theories she had read during the holidays flooded her mind.

She firmly believed! Things that are too coincidental are absolutely unreasonable!

Harry yawned as he entered the Great Hall just as breakfast was ending. Ron, with a sympathetic look, welcomed him to his seat and shoved a sandwich into his mouth.

"Wait, what about our Defense Against the Dark Arts class?" Hermione suddenly said.

"What?" Harry asked vaguely, chewing his sandwich.

"Lockhart's in Azkaban," Ron whispered to Harry, his voice full of amusement.

Hermione shot him a look and handed Harry the newspaper. Ron's eyes immediately widened. "Why let him see it and not me?"

"Because you already knew, didn't you?"

"Um..." Harry glanced at the headline, swallowed the sandwich in his mouth, and whispered, "I knew too."

Hermione and Ron looked at him together.

"How did you know?" Hermione looked at Harry suspiciously. "Who told you?"

"Weren't you at school the whole time?" Ron also looked at Harry suspiciously. "Did you sneak out?"

Stared at by two pairs of suspicious eyes, Harry felt annoyed but patiently replied:

"I found out from Snape. He even tried to apply to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but Headmaster Dumbledore refused." As he spoke, Harry's annoyance flared up. He angrily took a bite of his sandwich. "My only hard labor from the Old Bat during the holidays was truly suffering. Not only did I have to go to the study, but I also had to painstakingly help him process potion ingredients in the Room of Requirement, and endure his sarcastic remarks—Merlin! Hermione, did you see that overwhelming resentment from the Old Bat in London? Is this what a rejected old man is like? I'm so grateful to great Hogwarts; he can't deduct points from Gryffindor during the holidays, otherwise—"

"Gryffindor loses ten points for Mr. Potter's disrespect towards a professor."

A gloomy voice with a familiar drawl sounded from behind them. The young wizard who had been happily chattering and the two little wizards who were listening with wide eyes shivered in unison.

"Oh, I forgot to ask beforehand—" Snape glanced at the shrinking trio and sneered, "It's the start of term now. I have the ability to deduct points from you, Mr. Potter, don't I?"

"...Yes, Professor Snape." Harry's cheeks puffed out, his lips pressed tightly together.

Sensing Harry's gritted teeth, Snape raised an eyebrow with good humor. As he walked towards the staff table, he said, "I think, no matter how good-tempered Pomona is, she will deduct points from late students."

"!" Hermione immediately stood up, grabbed her books, and ran out of the Great Hall.

Harry stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and pulled Ron, who was trying to grab another bread roll, to run with him—as a result, they both fell to the ground. Harry choked on the food in his mouth and started coughing uncontrollably—so it became Ron, who had gotten up nimbly, pulling him along as they ran, while Snape's mockery echoed in their ears: "As expected of the Savior, you've got quick legs."

In the end, Hermione, panting, barely made it into the greenhouse on time. Harry and Ron, because they stopped to eat and cough on the way, gave up running and were seven minutes late. Professor Sprout deducted one point from each of them, and Hermione glared at them with disappointment.

Then, while Professor Sprout had them observe the Wrinkled Figs on their own, the three little wizards regrouped and talked about what had happened at breakfast.

"Seriously, Harry, you scared me," Ron said softly, patting Harry's shoulder, his lips pursed in an expression of admiration and pity. "You're amazing. I've never seen you speak so ill of the Old Bat with such ferocity. You must have been bullied terribly by him during the holidays."

Harry sighed regretfully. "I don't know why, but I've been getting angry easily lately. When I get angry, I can't control my mouth."

"It's from staying up late," Hermione stated confidently. "My mom never has a good tone with my dad after pulling an all-nighter, and sometimes she's a bit harsh with me too."

Ron frowned, falling into thought. "That's not necessarily true... my mom doesn't stay up late, but you see how fierce she is with me."

"That might not be the case," Hermione leaned closer. She knew some things about the Weasley family. "With so many children in your family and so much housework, your mom must be very tired. Maybe she can't finish everything even if she stays up late!"

"But there's magic—"

"That's your own problem! Mrs. Weasley is very nice," Harry poked the Wrinkled Fig in front of him irritably. "She's never been harsh with Percy or Ginny, only you, Fred, and George get scolded. Find your own reason!"

Hermione and Ron froze simultaneously, then exchanged a look. Rarely, they saw the same thought in each other's eyes—don't provoke him lately.

After quietly observing the Wrinkled Figs for a while, Hermione sighed. "Can we still attend the afternoon Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

"It's not Snape anyway, but I feel like he really doesn't want to be a Potions professor anymore," Harry pouted. "Looking at the stuff in his Room of Requirement, it feels like he's emptying out the Potions office. He doesn't want to go back to the Potions office at all. Does his office have a dragon?—Oh, wait, if there was a dragon, he'd probably turn it all into potion ingredients."

"...Oh." Hermione had no desire to continue chatting with the bickering Harry. She pulled Ron over and began analyzing the Wrinkled Fig in her hand. Ron nodded continuously following her description, looking like he was studying diligently.

Hermione's question was answered shortly after class.

The sixth-year students had Defense Against the Dark Arts class in the morning, so in the Great Hall at noon, sixth-year students from every house were exceptionally excited. The usually steady senior students were like first-time attending witches and wizards at this moment, all saying, "Professor Sekri is too amazing!"

Hermione: "!" The new professor is Ms. Cyberlina!

The discussions among the sixth-year students had everyone in all grades looking forward to it. After all, students who could take Defense Against the Dark Arts in their sixth year must have scored highly in that subject on their O.W.Ls. Moreover, they had already experienced six bad professors for Defense Against the Dark Arts. For them to unanimously agree and praise a new one, she must be exceptionally good.

It was in this eager atmosphere that Cyberlina walked into the Great Hall carrying several letters. Amidst the smiling faces of the other professors and Snape's sinister gaze, she slowly sat down at the staff table.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Cyberlina greeted Snape with a smile first.

Snape: "!" She's definitely provoking me!

"Hah! Good afternoon, Professor Sekri," Snape said, his face stiff and his tone as peculiar as ever. "After just one class—you're already this popular. I suppose it's to be expected of you."

"You flatter me," Cyberlina said, looking at him with a smile. "Don't worry, Severus, I'll still come to the Potions office to help you tonight. You don't need to worry about me grading homework; almost all my classes are practical, so I'll have plenty of time afterward."

Snape paused, then let out a cold snort and said no more.

It wasn't because Cyberlina offered to help him, but because she mentioned going to the Potions office—she must be going to see Grindelwald!

Merlin only knew why she kept Grindelwald, who was fixed in a cat form, in his office, and would occasionally come over to greet him before disappearing with the cat. He was furious, but he couldn't defeat either of them. So, after complaining to Dumbledore, he moved all his off-campus work to the newly tidied Room of Requirement.

Snape didn't need to brew potions every day during the holidays, but this batch of potions ordered by clients introduced by Lucius had suddenly become urgent—of course, with extra payment.

He believed his abilities were not the issue, but he felt time was tight. To make matters worse, the Assistant had been disappearing with the cat all day. Thus, he had to ask the Boy Who Lived, who was staying at school, to help process the materials—he used him to open the Room of Requirement often enough, so it was convenient. Of course, he always brought Harry into the Room of Requirement himself, because there was no way he would tell Mr. Potter the password to his Room of Requirement.

Finally, he managed to mail the potions to Lucius this morning, just in time for their appointment. While Cyberlina was instrumental in the timely delivery, as she had prepared all the materials before the client requested expedited shipping just before Christmas, he wouldn't thank her. She had also used the excuse of collecting materials for him to rescue someone in Austria! And after returning, she left him with trouble in his office!

Snape harbored all sorts of grievances toward Cyberlina in his heart and didn't want to look at her at all. He buried his head in his food, but as he lowered his head, he realized he was wearing the Christmas gift Cyberlina had given him. He had been so busy brewing potions that he had forgotten about the Christmas return gift... His mood worsened!

He ate a few mouthfuls with a grim expression, then floated out of the Great Hall in his new robes. The young wizards he passed one by one fell silent, and after he left, they clustered together, whispering about who had angered the Old Bat again.

McGonagall watched Snape leave, unsure whether to laugh or cry. She didn't know about all the subsequent events and simply assumed he was annoyed because Cyberlina's remark about helping him had struck a nerve. She then turned to Cyberlina, who was sitting beside her, and said, "Severus is easily provoked; try not to tease him during meals... he doesn't eat properly as it is."

"Alright," Cyberlina said with a smile, opening a letter in her hand. "Albus probably won't be back for a few more days. If you, Madam Deputy Headmistress, are overwhelmed with your duties, you can come to me too."

"It's alright, I'm used to it," McGonagall sighed helplessly. "At least this time it's the International Confederation of Wizards looking for him on official business; it's a normal business trip. You have no idea, sometimes he just sits in his office eating candy and hands all his work over to me."

Cyberlina leaned slightly toward McGonagall, winked at her, and said, "Don't be angry, Minerva. I've reduced his Tooth- укрепляющий Potion for several months now."

McGonagall hesitated. "But don't you often ask me to give him candy, and you just gave him a new bag at breakfast the day before yesterday—"

McGonagall stopped.

McGonagall understood.

McGonagall looked at Cyberlina with the same expression she used for mischievous little lions.

But Cyberlina merely gave her a knowing smile before turning back to open the letters she had received that morning.

There was nothing particularly important in them, just some routine greeting letters. So, she casually flipped through the first few, with no intention of replying. However, when she reached Lucius's letter, she paused—Lucius mentioned that several foreign families who had only a mediocre relationship with the Malfoy family had recently become very close to them, even proactively offering more money in transactions. He suspected a conspiracy.

Cyberlina raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised that Lucius would seek her opinion. She chuckled lightly, then picked up a quill and wrote on the blank space at the end of Lucius's letter, "Don't worry, just do as you normally would."

Cyberlina then set the letter aside and tapped the table—the letter vanished.

Next, she opened the last letter, an unsigned one with only a short sentence:

[Thank you for allowing me to borrow your surname.]

Cyberlina's eyes curved into a smile, and she folded the letter.

A small white flame emerged from her fingertips and silently burned the letter to ashes in her palm, leaving no trace.

Cyberlina smiled and pushed the pile of useless letters aside, beginning to enjoy her first lunch at the staff table in this life.

Although her initial intention for becoming a professor was to have a stable and leisurely life, allowing her to spend as much time as possible with Ominis, later—or rather, now—she suddenly realized she quite enjoyed being a professor.

She had been a professor at Hogwarts for quite some time and had taught many students, remembering most of their personalities and names clearly.

Even in the later stages of her teaching career in her previous life, when she was distracted by Ominis's health and somewhat neglected her students, she wouldn't have completely forgotten them. This memory alone was enough to recall the appearances and surnames of those students she had overlooked, using the Pensieve.

She felt it was good that she could remember.

Understanding her students and making decisions for them was the most basic duty of a professor, wasn't it?