Old Billy bent over, pretending to be very old, and followed Fudge out of the classroom without saying a word.
This is his camouflage; as long as he puts on this act, generally no one will make things difficult for him.
After all, I'm getting old, and everything I do seems heartbreaking.
This way, his boss's anger wouldn't reach him, and old Billy was secretly pleased with himself.
As soon as he stepped out the door, old Billy saw two students with bright red hair, who looked like they had been copied and pasted, hurrying away.
"Weasley?"
Upon seeing that signature red hair, old Billy instantly thought of a colleague he had worked for at the Ministry of Magic.
"Were they eavesdropping just now?"
After hesitating for a moment, old Billy glanced at the agitated Fudge in front of him and decided to pretend he didn't see him.
It's better to avoid trouble.
Your boss is in a bad mood right now, so it's best not to cause him any trouble.
After they left, several professors in the classroom surrounded them with concern, asking one after another about Silan's condition.
The professors were relieved after Silan repeatedly assured them that she was alright, but they couldn't help but complain about how unruly the Ministry of Magic staff were.
"It's all my fault," Professor Flitwick said with some self-reproach. "I should have asked them when I saw them bring you here."
"Cheer up, Professor Flitwick," Silan said. "I should be thanking you for finding me."
Professor Sprout gently grasped Silan's hand and said earnestly, "It's good that you're alright."
"I originally wanted to ask you to help me transplant some Mandrake in the greenhouse, but now..."
"I would be happy to, Professor," Silan said earnestly. "Please let me help you."
His words were earnest, and his expression was serious.
Professor Sprout sensed his enthusiasm and sincerity from his earnest and bright eyes.
"Prewett is such a good student," Professor Sprout couldn't help but think to himself.
Silan was indeed serious when he said that.
But the real purpose was Mandrake.
This is a rare herb; I can ask the professor for one or two plants and transplant them into my Suitcase.
"My plantation has grown even larger." Silan smiled sincerely.
Neville will be very happy.
After saying this, Silan didn't forget to thank Snape.
With Professor Flitwick in front of Snape and Professor Sprout in front of him, there was no way Snape could squeeze in, so he could only say from the outside, "You should thank Miss Granger."
Silan looked at Hermione and said earnestly, "Thank you, Hermione, you always help me."
This was his heartfelt gratitude.
Hermione has always been able to help him in various ways since long ago.
To be fair, beauty has always been Hermione's least significant advantage.
Silan felt completely at ease, even reassured, leaving many things to Hermione.
They had spent so much time together that their lives had intersected, and they naturally became interdependent in some ways.
Two blushes appeared on Hermione's face, and she raised her chin with a mixture of pride and modesty.
"Seeing you two so close makes me as happy as if I'd eaten a whole bucket of honey." Dumbledore chuckled, patting his belly, then winked at Hermione. "But Miss Granger, I'm sorry, I may need to speak with your friend alone."
Dumbledore added with a smile, "But don't worry, it won't be long before I return it to you."
Hermione's expression fell somewhat pitifully, she wrinkled her cute little nose, and reluctantly nodded.
Snape also glanced at Dumbledore with some displeasure.
"Let's go," Dumbledore said to Silan, ignoring Snape's gaze. "We'll go to the Headmaster's Office."
As Silan and Dumbledore headed toward the Headmaster's Office, George and Fred huddled together, following Fudge and his group.
Fudge found Lockhart, who was suffering from a mental breakdown, at the Hospital Wing and led him out of the castle.
George, who was hiding to the side, glanced at Walton's retreating figure with disgust and muttered angrily, "That guy is a real bastard, daring to threaten our cousin!"
"I've heard my father mention him." Fred stared at Walton. "After the Voldemort died, he said he was under the influence of the Imperius Curse and that's why he wasn't captured in Azkaban."
"I think he's a Death Eaters evil."
George and Fred overheard the conversation inside the classroom as they passed by.
They had originally intended to find the professor, but before they could even take action, they saw Dumbledore arrive in a grand procession with the heads of the four houses.
They hid to the side and heard the end.
Although the matter was resolved, they had no intention of letting Walton, who had bullied Silan, off so easily.
This guy needs to be taught a lesson.
The two hit it off immediately and got to work.
In order to atone for his crime and to leave the troublesome Hogwarts as soon as possible, old Billy volunteered to take on the task of sending Lockhart to Azkaban.
Fudge really didn't want to see that idiot Walton, so he left on his own.
Now, Walton had no choice but to walk out of the castle alone.
"Damn Prewett!"
"They didn't kill them all back then..."
Walton cursed as he walked out of the castle, frightening the passing young wizards who scurried to the side.
Recalling Silan's mockery of him earlier, and the way she spoke to him like a dog, Walton felt a vein throbbing in his head.
He kept muttering curses under his breath, when suddenly he felt as if someone was watching him from behind.
Looking back, the view disappeared again.
Recalling Silan's cold and ruthless gaze, Walton couldn't help but think of his former master again, and a chill ran down his spine.
"Damn it, how can it look so similar?"
Walton gritted his teeth, trying hard not to let his innermost thoughts slip out, as if afraid of being overheard.
A flock of birds circled the tall tower for a while, then flew over the high and low rooftops of Hogwarts, finally hovering above Walton's head.
Frustrated, Walton pulled out his wand and unleashed a curse at the flock of birds.
The birds scattered in all directions, but gathered again after escaping the Spells.
One of the birds fluttered its wings twice, then its body stiffened as it fell downwards.
Walton's lips curled into a cruel smile as he squinted at the bird.
"That silly bird, it was scared to death by its own Spells," he thought smugly.
The bird plummeted straight down from the sky, getting closer and closer to Walton.
He looked up and noticed that the bird looked rather strange.
They have no feathers, only lines drawn with ink, and their bodies are made of wood.
"Something's not right, this isn't a real bird."
Walton was startled, but it was too late.
The wooden bird trembled twice, and a lump of something came out from its rear end...
Dungbomb?