Upon hearing this, Herman subconsciously glanced at the Walnut Wood wand in his hand.
A wisp of very faint smoke remained on the tip of the staff, drifting almost imperceptibly in the dim light.
He quickly put the wand back into his pocket, moving three times faster than usual.
After Snape finished speaking, he ignored him, turned around, and faced the dark entrance to the passage ahead, showing no intention of going any further.
He stood there in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him, his long black robe trailing down to his ankles, like a large bat with its wings folded, quietly waiting for something.
Herman wisely continued cleaning the doorway.
The broom in his hand was really useless; the bristles were pitifully thin, and the stick was heavy. When he swept the stone slab, he could only push the dust from one place to another.
The spider webs in the corners were easier to clean; they broke off with a few pokes of the stick, clump together, and stuck to the stick like a few grayish-white cotton balls.
As for the dust on the ground, Herman swept it twice before deciding to give up.
The fine dust had accumulated in the cracks between the stone bricks for countless years, becoming one with the ground. Brooms could only move it to another spot.
He leaned the broom against the corner of the wall, dusted off his hands, and thought that was enough.
After waiting for a while, footsteps came from the depths of the other end of the corridor.
The footsteps were neither hurried nor slow, but more complex than a person walking alone. There were at least two pairs of boots landing alternately on the stone pavement, one after the other, with a fixed interval.
Herman curiously raised his head and looked in the direction from which the sound came.
The first thing that catches the eye is a head of dazzling blonde hair.
Quirrell emerged from around the corner of the corridor, his steps measured, his face open and confident, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
He was wearing his usual dark robe, the collar neatly trimmed, and he looked like a young professor who had just come from an academic lecture.
Then, behind Quirrell, came a figure in a black robe.
The figure was half a step slower Quirrell, and the black of his robe was even darker Snape's, as if it were made of fabric with no reflection at all.
His face was pale, his eyes were sunken, and his facial features appeared even more three-dimensional and sharp in the dim light.
It's Gori Vampire song!
Herman's face immediately turned pale.
He stood with Snape and Gori, forming a complete "pretty boy trio"—three pale faces, each one paler than the last, each looking like they'd just been dragged out of a refrigerator.
"Damn it, is this a case of meeting on a narrow road?" Herman muttered to himself, instinctively leaning closer to Snape.
His movements were small, but his purpose was clear: to get himself behind Snape as much as possible, so that the figure in the black robe could block the Gori's view.
Although Snape usually disliked him a hundred times and never hesitated to deduct points and criticize him, he trusted his headmaster more than the Vampire elder opposite him.
Quirrell is a good person, but his combat strength is questionable.
Snape is a wizard who has served two Dark Lords and done quite well with both, so his combat experience should be much richer than Quirrell's.
Snape noticed Herman's subtle movements, glanced down at the figure shrinking behind him, but didn't think much of it.
In his eyes, Herman was only afraid of Vampire, which was normal; they were both young wizards, and it was natural for them to instinctively back away from dark creatures. He wished Harry would be like that too.
" Quirrell, you're late. I don't have time to give you a room tour." Snape's voice came from above, his tone impatient and cold.
Quirrell quickly stepped forward, a slightly apologetic smile on his face, "I'm sorry, Professor Snape, I gave Professor Gori a tour of the school, which took up some time."
Snape snorted, a snort that was longer than usual, sounding like a breath of cold air squeezed from his nostrils:
"Is it necessary? Most of the time, the Gori assistant has to stay here, in its VIP room, right?"
When he said "VIP room," his tone noticeably rose, and he pronounced each syllable exceptionally clearly.
Herman stood behind him, listening to the sarcastic tone at the end of the sentence, and silently gave Snape a thumbs up for Snape sharp tongue.
It's clear that Snape was hostile towards the Gori, or rather, he disliked it.
Herman couldn't understand the source of this hostility. Was it because Gori had become an assistant professor of Dark Magic Defence Class Dark Magic Defence Class, while Snape hadn't managed to get the position, so his jealousy had flared up again?
Surely not, he's just a teaching assistant.
However, Snape's hostility towards the Gori was noticeably stronger than his usual criticism of Quirrell; the coldness came from the bone and was not at all joking.
While mentally complaining, Herman shrank even further behind Snape, almost touching the hem of the black robe.
He watched as Snape's large, bat-like robes swayed slightly before his eyes, and he felt a strange sense of peace.
Regardless, this is his dean, so he might be of some use in crucial moments.
I will definitely pay attention in Potions Class from now on, do my homework carefully, and clean the cauldron diligently.
Quirrell opened his mouth, speechless for a moment, after being rebuked by Snape.
He had previously made a deal with Snape for Potions to heal his arm, during which time he was extremely respectful to Snape and even promised to deal with Herman.
Now that the deal is done, there's no need to beg Snape for anything anymore, and there's no need to be so polite.
But Snape was, after all, his senior and senior at Hogwarts, with more experience and a higher position.
Faced with Snape's merciless words, Quirrell, being a gentleman by nature and easily embarrassed, was momentarily at a loss for words.
Fortunately, the Gori started playing at that moment.
He took half a step forward, standing beside Quirrell, a perfectly timed smile appearing on his pale face.
The smile was neither too deep nor too shallow; it neither appeared obsequious nor made people feel distant.
" Professor Snape, I've long admired your name." The voice in the Gori was deep and warm, each word seemingly rolled on the tip of the tongue before being uttered, "I heard during my slumber that Hogwarts had a Potions Master, and even Nicolas Flamel praised your potion-making skills."
Snape's gaze shifted from Quirrell to Gori's face, and his brow twitched slightly.
"To be able to see you in person after waking up this time truly proves your reputation is well-deserved."
The Gori continues, its tone unhurried, "I've heard that your improved formula for Wolfsbane Potion caused quite a stir in the industry. I've always been curious about its underlying principles; as you know, the relationship between Vampire and Werewolf has always been complex."