Hogwarts: Who made her a professor?

Chapter 40 Hogwarts' Great Wisdom

After a night that started strong but ended weakly, Belvina Black's curiosity was piqued.

Belvina wasn't particularly concerned with Quirrell's ultimate goal, nor did she want to know how they would cooperate; she just wanted to know how the seemingly stupid Quirrell had managed to regain his intellectual dominance.

It's so weird.

Although Belvina wasn't a master at manipulating people's minds, she clearly succeeded in getting Quirrell under her control that night, only to have the situation abruptly reversed at the last moment, leaving everyone feeling helpless, like a plot twist.

Like Draco Malfoy, Belvina is now deeply affected and wants to figure out what really happened that night—whether Quirrell suddenly had a breakthrough or if someone was able to help Quirrell without her knowledge.

Either possibility is chilling.

So much so that even while at the Quidditch pitch, Belvina would still sneak peeks at Quillot from time to time, completely oblivious to the upcoming match.

The weather was clear and cold. Belvina, dressed in a black leather coat with a warm, furry collar, stood fully armed on the windswept platform.

Everyone around Belvina was incredibly enthusiastic, but she remained completely unresponsive, like a dead fish.

"My dear, are you really not going to cheer for Slytherin?" Bassheda Bablin asked, the ancient rune standing out in her bright red cloak.

Although she knew it would be pointless to ask, Bassheda still asked, afraid that if Belvina continued to stand so quietly, she would become an ice sculpture in the audience. The warmth welling up inside her could dispel the chill.

At 11:00, the Gryffindor and Slytherin players, led by their respective captains, entered the playing field. Gryffindor wore bright red uniforms, while Slytherin wore green uniforms.

The stands around the stadium erupted in cheers, so loud that the platform itself shook.

"If Regulus were still here, I would cheer for Slytherin," Belvina said. "But darling, look at this Slytherin team."

It wasn't that Belvina was judging by appearances, but rather that this Slytherin team was simply unappealing. The players were all rather unattractive, with only Chaser Pluse and Seeker Higgs being decent-looking enough to be worthy of the audience's attention.

Especially Flint, the captain of Slytherin; his imposing appearance actually made Belvina feel a sense of shame, because Flint's blood also flowed in her veins.

It's one thing if they don't look good, but after all, they are athletes who should rely on their skills. However, their skills are just so-so. They win more because of their rough playing style and strong physique.

Simply put, the Slytherin team's playing style was not flashy enough, and their sportsmanship was appallingly low.

"Well, I'm wondering the same thing. Aside from Higgs and Psy, aren't there any other Slytherin players who are both good-looking and skilled at ball games?" Bassheda said. "Like Cedric Diggory from our house!"

Showing off, huh? Bassheda was definitely showing off; her expression was exactly the same as Mr. Diggory's when he was showing off his son at the Ministry of Magic.

"Roger Davis is not bad either, a Ravenclaw athlete." Paul Bernard, who arrived late, had just sat down when he started to provoke Belvina.

"Although Mr. Davis and Mr. Diggory are both very nice, I'm sure Flint will send them to the infirmary," Belvina said resentfully, hoping that Slytherin would win beautifully, not just by winning the game.

As Ms. Hodge blew her silver whistle, fifteen flying brooms shot up from the ground and soared into the sky. The competition began.

"The Quaffle was immediately caught by Angelina Jansen of Gryffindor—what an excellent chaser she is, and she's also very attractive—"

Commentator Lee Jordan's voice echoed across the stadium. The Gryffindor student began his biased commentary, and incidentally confessed his feelings to the girl he admired.

Looking at the reckless team captain Flint and his unusually prominent buck teeth, Belvina couldn't help but wonder if Flint had relatives in faraway Uruguay.

With Flint's mouth full of tiny, protruding teeth, if anyone were unlucky enough to be bitten by him, even the miraculous Mrs. Pomfrey wouldn't know how to stitch up the wound.

Above the field, players from both teams flew back and forth, displaying a dazzling array of guerrilla and dart-flying shots.

Gryffindor is currently leading Slytherin thanks to Angelina's outstanding performance on the offensive line and Wood's excellent goalkeeping.

"One Galleon, let's guess who will be the first Slytherin to foul," Paul suggested, holding up his binoculars and observing each Slytherin player.

In every Quidditch match the Slytherin team plays, if they are behind the opposing team, their next goal is no longer the Quaffle, but how to get their opponent into the infirmary.

Belvina looked up at the sky speechlessly. The people around her weren't guessing when Slytherin would score, but rather who would commit the first foul. Could these Slytherin players be any more shameful?!

Can't you just do your best for your mother and win a game properly?

"Flint! It has to be Marcus Flint!" Bassheda exclaimed. "I'm sure he won't let me down!"

When it comes to fouls on the court, especially flagrant fouls, you can always trust Flint.

"Can't we just guess whether Higgs can catch the Golden Snitch?" Belvina said helplessly, "or guess when Puse will score. Why guess a foul? Fouls disrupt the flow of the game and ruin the viewing experience for the audience..."

If you enjoy watching violence and fouls so much, why don't you watch boxing matches or wizard duels?

Mr. Marcus Flint was equally shameless; before Belvina could finish speaking, Ms. Hooch blew the silver whistle she had in her mouth—Slytherin foul!

Harry Potter, representing Gryffindor, and Terence Higgs, representing Slytherin, both Seekers spotted the Golden Snitch almost simultaneously and ran side by side toward it.

With his outstanding talent and the performance advantage of Nimbus 2000, Harry gradually pulled away from Higgs. Just as he was about to catch the Golden Snitch, Marcus Flint suddenly appeared from the side and knocked Harry off course, saving the team with a foul.

"Well done, Flint!"

The person praising Flint for saving the team wasn't Belvina, but Bassheda, who had just won a Galleon.

However, Belvina still took her hands out of her leather jacket pocket and started clapping. In a life-or-death moment for the team, Flint did a good job by fouling to stop the opponent, which is understandable.

Of course, Flint's insignificant malicious fouls are still annoying, and Belvina still doesn't like this bad boy on the court, if he can be considered a bad boy at all.

The game quickly resumed, with Gryffindor taking a free kick from the goalpost. The three female chasers on the attacking line methodically organized their attack, while the Weasley twins provided cover with their clubs. And Harry Potter—

Merlin, does anyone know what Harry Potter is up to?!

Harry, who was gliding around high in the air, suddenly seemed to lose control of his flying broom. Harry's broom twitched and twisted wildly, slowly getting higher and higher, causing Harry to drift further and further away from the arena.

Just then, Bell of Slytherin pierced Wood's goal, and the Slytherin students in the stands cheered, seemingly oblivious to Harry's unusual behavior.

"What's up with Harry Potter?" Paul asked, holding up his binoculars. "Is he trying to catch the sun?"

Upon hearing this, Bathsheda snatched the binoculars and peered at Harry, who was performing his aerial art. She exclaimed, "Is there something wrong with Potter's flying broomstick?"

After the initial elation (and frustration) of scoring (or conceding) a goal subsided, people began to notice Seeker Harry and saw his beautiful vision of flying up to the sky and standing shoulder to shoulder with the sun.

Almost everyone noticed Harry's strange behavior; his flying broomstick began to tumble and roll incessantly, threatening to throw him off the plane at any moment.

Harry Potter is making a limited-time return.

Standing in the crowded stands, Belvina turned her head to look at Quirrell, the wizard who had dealt her a heavy blow but was also incredibly stupid, not far away.

Belvina's gaze fell on Quirrell, but Quirrell's gaze followed Harry's every move, a scene reminiscent of a Hogwarts excerpt.

On the surface, the new year-old disposable teaching aids appeared to have no problems. At this moment, everyone's attention was focused on the boy who had survived the ordeal, so it was normal for Quirrell to stare intently at Harry.

The professor was worried that the student might get hurt, and this student was none other than the famous Harry Potter—that's perfectly normal!

However, Quirrell's behavior towards Belvina was highly suspicious; he walked right into her trap by exploding in front of her.

Looking at Quirinas Quirrell's slightly parted lips, Belvina had no idea he was rescuing Harry from his freefall.

The villain of Hogwarts in the 91st and 92nd school years, who used a spell to save Harry Potter from being thrown off his flying broomstick, would not have chosen such a low-probability possibility even if Belvina wanted to freeload.

Belvina gently tugged at Bassheda's sleeve, and the ancient rune-like sweetheart immediately understood, looking in the direction her friend was looking.

"Quirok is probably chanting a spell. Do you believe he's trying to save Harry Potter?" Bassheda stated her observation. No matter how discreet his actions were, Quirrell's little tricks were still impossible to hide under binoculars.

"Is he crazy?" Paul didn't understand, but he was deeply shocked.

Paul Bernard was utterly baffled. What was his fellow Ravenclaw thinking? Was he not going to continue acting?

"And Professor Snape, he was chanting spells too," Bathsheda continued her observation. "That night, the little girl from the bathroom appeared—oh my god—she actually set Snape's robes on fire! It was the most interesting scene I've seen all year!"

Listening to Bassheda's live broadcast, Belvina couldn't help but laugh as she put her acacia wand back into her pocket.

First he became lame on Halloween Eve, and today his robes were burned in a fire. Severus Snape has had some pretty bad luck lately.

At the other end of the stands, bright blue flames erupted from Snape's body, causing a commotion among the surrounding crowd. Snape was interrupted from casting a spell by the sudden burst of flames, and Quirrell's view was also obstructed by the commotion.

An operation targeting Harry Potter came to an end, thwarted by a clumsy mistake made by a reckless little girl.

"What a fantastic match," Belvina murmured. "I can't wait to mock Snape; his butter-covered face is going to be hilarious."

Besides wanting to mock Snape, Belvina's doubts were also growing.

What was Quirinas Quirrell thinking? Did he grow a head just to avoid looking weird?

Today is the first Quidditch match of the new school year. Almost all the professors are present except for Dumbledore. Even if Harry is thrown off by the flying broom, would the professors just watch him free fall?

Belvina found it hard to understand, and she was even more shocked.

She suddenly felt that Quirinas Quirrell should have two people, like the dissociative identity disorder that Muggles talk about.

Two Quirrells: one cunning and wise, who saw through Belvina's "waiting for the best price" maneuver; the other utterly foolish, who murdered Harry Potter in front of almost everyone.

Seemingly sensing something, Quirrell, on the other side of the stands, suddenly turned his head and met Belvina's gaze.

Then Quirrell grinned foolishly, as if to say: Look, I almost killed Harry Potter!

Holy crap, Merlin luncheon meat!

If I am guilty, please send me to Azkaban instead of keeping me at Hogwarts to watch the monkey show!

Belvina suddenly understood Fudge's intention: the minister wanted her to return to Hogwarts in order to increase her tolerance for everything.