Dumbledore: What a Pain!

Dumbledore: What a Pain! In the headmaster's office on the seventh floor.

Faced with the tempting pile of Cockroach Clusters, Dumbledore's hand had unconsciously reached toward them several times, only to helplessly pull back each time.

It was not that he did not want to eat them.

It was just that the bomb Snape had dropped on him had completely ruined his mood for sweets.

"Severus, we must consider keeping a dragon very carefully. If you only need dragon blood for potions, I can contact my friends and have them send some over."

Snape remained expressionless, but inwardly he was full of disdain.

He could not speak for anything else.

But as a Potions Master, he was far better than Dumbledore at acquiring potion ingredients.

"Ten pounds of dragon blood every month. Arrange it."

Dumbledore felt a sudden toothache and desperately needed Tooth-Growing Potion to ease it.

Unfortunately, the Snape standing before him was his potion supplier.

And his only one.

The potions brewed by other Potions Masters could no longer effectively suppress his toothache.

"Could it be less? How about ten grams a month? I can set aside a special fund to purchase dragon blood."

Snape simply stared at Dumbledore expressionlessly, making him feel uncomfortable all over.

Dumbledore gritted his teeth. "How about twenty grams?"

Snape still said nothing.

Dumbledore rubbed his brow. "Fine. I can apply to the Ministry of Magic regarding the matter of keeping a dragon. But you know Hogwarts has limited space. If the dragon accidentally escaped, the consequences would be unimaginable."

Snape's lips moved slightly as he softly uttered a name. "Newt Scamander."

"The suitcase?" Dumbledore muttered.

"You helped expand that suitcase yourself. Don't tell me you can't do it."

"Fine, fine, even if we solve the space issue, who will be responsible for raising it? You certainly won't be taking care of a dragon, will you?" Dumbledore was still making one last struggle.

Snape did not answer. Instead, he looked out the window.

Dumbledore followed his gaze and happened to see Hagrid's Hut.

"Ah!"

He let out a heavy sigh, and his blue eyes deepened.

"Severus, keeping a dragon was not your idea, was it?"

The corner of Snape's mouth rose slightly. "It was not. Take a guess. Whose suggestion was it?"

For some reason, a name suddenly surfaced in Dumbledore's mind.

"Brook Lott."

"Congratulations. Correct."

Dumbledore covered his face and smiled bitterly.

ε=(´ο｀*))) Sigh~

That little fellow had made his move after all.

"What impression do you have of Lott?"

"He has decent talent and reverence for knowledge," Snape said flatly.

"It truly isn't easy to hear such an assessment from you."

Snape merely gave a noncommittal grunt.

"Severus, I hope that when you have time, you can pay more attention to him. I do not want him to go down the wrong path."

"During the holidays, you had me keep an eye on Lott without telling me why, and I let that go. But then you sorted him into Gryffindor. You should leave this matter to Minerva."

Snape spoke with dissatisfaction.

"That was the Sorting Hat's decision."

"Enough. Don't use that kind of excuse to fool children."

Snape looked utterly disdainful.

Did he really think I didn't know?

Even Sprout, who was usually so good-tempered, had gotten into a huge argument with Dumbledore over Brook.

"Minerva is not suited for this."

If you think this book is good, remember to add it to your bookshelf so you won't lose it next time.

"And I am?"

Snape looked at Dumbledore's wrinkled old face and dearly wanted to hit him with a Sectumsempra, but ultimately held himself back.

"His talent for potions is quite good. I will train him."

"Thank you, Severus." Dumbledore paused. "Don't forget Harry as well."

"I know," Snape replied impatiently.

"Harry's eyes look so much like Lily's. You absolutely mustn't ⁄(⁄⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄⁄)⁄."

Before Dumbledore could finish, Snape turned and strode out of the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore remained alone in the office, gazing at the distant sky as his thoughts drifted.

He recalled Minerva and Sprout's evaluations of Brook.

Tom Riddle had once been diligent and eager to learn during his school years, excelling in subjects such as Potions and Transfiguration.

Handsome, graceful, and polite, he had left an excellent impression on every professor.

Brook was the same now.

Moreover, Brook's wand and Tom's wand had been made from the same piece of yew wood.

He only hoped Brook would not follow the same path as Tom.

Brook spent two comfortable days sleeping in, then resumed his busy life of studying.

For him, studying itself was not a hardship. He even enjoyed it.

But getting up early was simply too difficult.

If only Hogwarts classes could start in the afternoon.

That morning, as soon as he got up, he saw Hermione sighing in the common room.

"What is it, Hermione? Got boiled?"

"You're the crab," Hermione shot back unhappily.

"Not bad, you even know how to talk back now. You're improving! Tell me, what has you so upset? Let me enjoy it too."

Brook habitually reached out to rub Hermione's little head.

Hermione dodged him at once and pointed at a notice on the bulletin board.

"Flying Class starts on Thursday."

Flying Class?

Brook immediately pictured wizards flying on broomsticks.

"Then take it. Of all the things we're learning now, which ones had we ever encountered before? Don't you always pick them up quickly? You're even one of the top students in the class."

Hermione: (ꈍᴗꈍ)(ღˇ◡ˇღ)

"But that's flying. It's different from other classes."

She sprang to her feet. "No, I need to go to the library and find some books about flying."

Brook quickly grabbed her. "Eat first. We still have class later. Tonight, I'll find someone who knows what they're doing to give us a lesson."

When it came to Hermione's habit of running to the library whenever she encountered something she did not understand,

Brook had long since gotten used to it.

But flying was an essential skill for wizards.

Asking someone about it was much more practical than reading books.

Brook was not very familiar with the upper-year students. After thinking it over, he could only trouble the twins again.

At first, the twins thought Brook and Hermione had come to pester them with questions about the Disillusionment Charm again.

They both looked miserable.

But when they learned that the two had come because of Flying Class, they immediately perked up.

"You've come to the right people!"

"We're Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

The twins declared proudly.

"You two go to the Quidditch Pitch first. We'll get some good stuff."

With that, the twins dashed off in a flurry.

"What are they going to do?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Probably get brooms. No amount of theory is as practical as a hands-on lesson. Let's go wait for them at the pitch," Brook guessed.