Chapter 324 The Upcoming Quidditch

The door of the headmaster's office closed silently, blocking the sound of Umbridge's angry footsteps going downstairs.

"I guess the problem is solved." Dumbledore said lightly, "Biscuits?"

Professor McGonagall said with a straight face: "It's only part of the problem, Albus. To solve the problem completely, you need a broom that can send her out of Hogwarts."

"Do you mean flying or sweeping?" Dumbledore asked cunningly, "Well, dear Minerva, that day doesn't seem too far away - if she insists on not taking my warning seriously. It's strange that power corrupts her so quickly... It's as if someone is secretly fueling the flames..." His voice gradually lowered.

"You mean... Death Eaters, Albus?" Professor McGonagall lowered her voice, "But what good will it do them?"

"I don't know. I have some guesses, but none of them can be confirmed at present. Some of these guesses, let me say this, I would rather they will never be confirmed..." Dumbledore turned his eyes to Anthony (who was trying not to interrupt the conversation by handing the biscuits to Hagrid), "You seemed to want to say something just now, Henry?"

"What?" Anthony said, "Oh, yes, it's not very important. Mr. Fudge doesn't know about the investigation task force, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled and said, "This is another thing I don't know. Of course, based on my understanding of Cornelius, I would say that he may have heard of the name of the task force, but he doesn't care what they are doing-"

Hagrid snorted, "He is the stupidest fool in the world, always making a mess of things." He carefully picked up the biscuit and put it in his mouth.

Dumbledore shook his head at Hagrid and continued, "--Besides, I know at least one thing, that is, he will not admit to me that he knows."

Anthony nodded knowingly: "That's enough."

Professor McGonagall complained: "When will he pretend that he doesn't know anything about the Education Order and the Senior Inquisitor? Albus, can't we take back the excessive power of the Inquisitor? You know, she almost expelled Sybil!"

Dumbledore's tone was calm, even as if there was some pity: "As I reminded her, if it is not treated with caution, power is likely to bring unexpected consequences... However, there is a more urgent matter now." He stood up from behind the desk and smiled at everyone, "It's time for dinner."

...

Perhaps because the Investigation Action Team could not deduct points, Anthony found it difficult to meet those students with a small "I" on their chests in the corridor.

Tracy still wore it in the Muggle Studies class, and seemed not to feel the cautious eyes of her classmates looking at her. Whenever she walked into the classroom a second before class, Katie would frown in disdain and turn her face away. While demonstrating how steam provides power—energy conversion—Anthony saw Katie taking notes while staring at the rapidly spinning cans, while whispering to her deskmate about why Tracy hadn't dropped out of the class yet.

Roger Davis probably thought his sister had dropped out too. When he met Tracy at the door of the classroom, he looked a little embarrassed, but in the end he just nodded to Tracy silently and walked sideways into the classroom. Tracy strode away.

"Mr. Davis?" Anthony was packing up the things on the podium and looked up in surprise, "What's wrong?" Because he had just finished the chapter on trains and Hogwarts Express, there was still a kettle and a steam engine model on the table, but the cans had been thrown away.

"Uh..." Roger seemed a little hesitant, "Can I take a day off tomorrow, Professor Anthony?"

"Why?" Anthony asked.

"Quidditch practice," Roger said, "This weekend is our match with Slytherin. Ravenclaw is currently at the bottom of the score, and everyone except me is free tomorrow..."

Anthony thought for a moment: "Okay, Mr. Davis, but you have to write a paper, the title is... "The Relationship between Muggle Radio and Wizard Radio", how about it? Or "Why is Muggle Radio an Electrical Appliance"? "

Roger complained: "You never assign a paper, professor."

Anthony put the last model back into the box and stuffed it into his bag: "Yes, but no one has ever asked me for leave for Quidditch practice." He cast a quick-drying spell to evaporate the water on the podium, "As far as I know, if Mr. Wood heard that his beaters, chasers and substitutes could easily leave the classroom to participate in training, he would be very happy."

"Oh, Oliver." Roger sighed, "That makes sense, Professor Anthony, I will write it. Is there a length requirement?"

Anthony paused. What is the normal length of the paper?

"It's the same length as the last paper on Herbology - no, forget it, it's the same length as the last paper on Charms." He said, "Give it to me before class next week. You've already disassembled several Muggle radios, Mr. Davis, I believe this topic shouldn't be difficult for you. Deal?"

Roger smiled: "Deal, Professor Anthony."

...

The next day, Roger really didn't come to the Muggle Studies class. His classmates heard the reason for his absence from somewhere. During the test, Anthony heard several students instigating Cedric: "Why don't you take a leave next week too? You want to compete too!"

"No." Cedric whispered, crossing out two wrong options.

His deskmate asked eagerly: "Why?"

Anthony looked in this direction, and the students quickly lowered their heads and pretended to read the questions. But before the silence lasted long, Cedric's deskmate came over again: "If Slytherin loses this week, it will be almost impossible for them to win the Quidditch Cup. Of course, if we can beat Gryffindor Oh - by the way, I heard that Gryffindor's batters were locked up, is that true? I heard they weren't even available for training..."

Anthony coughed.

"It's true, but it has nothing to do with Muggle Studies." Cedric said, turning to the next page, and kindly reminded his deskmate, "There are still about five minutes."

The other party immediately shut up.

While his deskmate was busy writing, the student sitting behind Cedric poked him in the back: "Hey, Cedric! Do you want to ask for leave?"

Cedric leaned back and said patiently, "No way. I don't want to delay class for training."

"That's right." The classmates behind him immediately agreed, "We still need your notes. What should I choose for the fourth question?"

"I chose the battery," Cedric said.

Another person joined the discussion: "Why not an antenna?"

Anthony had to speak up: "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm trying my best to ignore you, and it's getting harder and harder."

Half the class laughed.

…

Saturday was a cloudy day, neither too hot nor too cold, with a slight breeze, perfect for walking and Quidditch.

However, Anthony didn't go for a walk or watch the Ravenclaw-Slytherin game. He spends all his time repairing the relationships between his three pets.

The Wraith Mouse was angry with the Cat for tearing up the cat's nest, and the Wraith Chicken returned to his favorite corner of the closet and was unhappy to find the Mouse huddled there sulking. And this is all because the Skeleton Cat has been very irritable recently. He lost his temper because the Wraith Chicken refused its invitation to fight for the fifty-eighth time. He howled and tore up Anthony's pillows, quilts, mattresses, and several wizard items. robe, dressing gown, box of coconut sorbet, newspaper under the box and cat's bed - a total of four galleons and six sicols, plus twelve point nine pounds. In terms of lost value, Anthony is optimistic that the cats have become much mellower.

After negotiation, his tie box now belongs to the Wraith Mouse, the rest of the wardrobe belongs to the Wraith Chicken, and the space at the top of the wardrobe belongs to three pets at the same time.

"Wait a minute, I thought this was my wardrobe," Anthony said. "Can I still put my clothes in there, sir?"

The Wraith Chicken looked at him sideways, pecked his fingers gently, and agreed kindly. The mouse squeaked in approval.

The skeleton cat got a small bag of dried fish with colored balls and half a bowl of white wine, so he had to lie on the floor, wagging his tail and listening to Anthony repeat that he should get along well with other roommates, while chewing the dried fish loudly. .

"There are not so many undead creatures in this world, cat." Anthony educated it. "If you can't get along well with them, you will already be hated by most of the undead magical world."

Judging from the force with which the cat chewed the dried fish, it seemed that it didn't mind returning the same amount of boredom to the so-called magical world of the undead. Its ears flattened in annoyance, as if trying to cover the ear canal. Anthony couldn't help laughing and reached out to pry its ears open.

"Are you bored?" He looked at the new wound on his hand slowly healing, "How about we go to the Quidditch match next week? There's - oh!"

The cat hugged his wrist in annoyance and bit his hand. "Let go -" Anthony hit the cat's head with his other hand, "I said let go, you fanged crusher!"

He sat on the ground and hugged the cat to his side when it let go.

"Don't want to go to the game, huh? Don't want to?" Anthony said. "What about you, chicken? Mouse? There are a dozen flying brooms, a few balls, and a lot of noisy living people. With any luck, There will also be accidental injuries and fights. Doesn’t that sound tempting?”

Perhaps the Quidditch game was too tempting. When another Saturday came, Anthony woke up to the breeze and the slight trembling of the windows. Bright sunlight shines into the room through the gap in the open window. All the pets disappeared, leaving only a few tattered curtains.

"Great, everyone is reconciled." Anthony muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed and hesitating for a while, and finally decided to go to the kitchen and ask the house elves to make him a sandwich instead of going to the hall for breakfast.

It's definitely not because he doesn't want to meet Umbridge, or Lockhart, or Snape. Slytherin won the match against Ravenclaw and became the team most likely to win the Quidditch Cup. Whenever Snape made a hypocritical greeting about Gryffindor's preparations for the game ("Ah, I forgot, Mr. Weasley is temporarily unavailable for training."), Professor McGonagall's face didn't look very good.

He went out a little late, and many students had already gotten up. They were walking slowly towards the hall, discussing dreams that could be recorded in the divination homework, a certain complicated emotional dispute, yesterday's bad luck, Zuko's new magic item, and of course the upcoming Quidditch match.

Anthony greeted them with a smile and lingered for a while on the stairs leading to Hufflepuff's dormitory. It wasn't until no one was around that he quickly found the fruit portrait and scratched the pear whose paint had peeled off slightly.

The pear chuckled and turned into a doorknob. Anthony quickly slipped into the kitchen—at least on the surface, the location of the kitchen should be a secret. He heard that it was the house elves who requested that the kitchen be hidden because they enjoyed the surprise of making food appear out of thin air on the table in the hall, and firmly believed that the best elves would not let wizards notice that they were working.

"Professor Anthony!" Several shrill voices rang out as soon as he entered the door.

Several elves who were directing various dishes to fly to the table asked enthusiastically: "What do you need us to do, sir?"

One of the elves reached out and patted the table, and the silver plates disappeared with a mountain of baked potatoes, sausages, beans and bread. The next moment, a pile of plates appeared again, scattered with half-eaten fried eggs, irregularly shaped sauces, dirty napkins, and specially picked carrot pieces...

"Is there anything we can help you with? Anything!"

"Oh..." Anthony said, not reacting for a while.

When he came here before, the long tables at the entrance of the kitchen were covered with neat velvet cloth, as if they would always sleep under the quilt. He did realize that they were exactly the same as the long tables in the hall, but this was the first time he saw the elves use them to teleport food to their heads.

"Henry?" He suddenly heard his name. He turned his head and saw Professor McGonagall coming out of the kitchen with a sandwich in her hand.

Anthony smiled and said, "Good morning, Minerva."

"Good morning." Professor McGonagall nodded, "What are you doing here?"

"Eating breakfast, at least that's what I plan to do. Any sandwich recommendations?"

"Bacon will never go wrong." Professor McGonagall said, "Cheese and onion sandwiches are also good."

Anthony thought for a moment: "What flavor is in your hand?"

Professor McGonagall conjured up a chair and sat down next to the long table corresponding to Gryffindor: "This? Coronation Chicken."

The elf who conjured up the chair a step later lowered his ears and looked very annoyed, so Anthony had to sit down and thank him.

The elf opened his ears happily, and put the plate in front of Professor McGonagall, looking at him eagerly: "What would you like to eat, sir?"

"A bacon sandwich, thank you."

"Yes, sir!" the elf said sharply, "Would you like something to drink? Pumpkin juice? Milk? Tea?"

Anthony said: "A sandwich is enough--"

Before he finished speaking, a plate with a bacon sandwich appeared in front of him with a "pop". Coco held the plate and stood proudly between him and Professor McGonagall.

"Bacon sandwich, Professor Anthony!" Coco said proudly, "Coco made a bacon sandwich!"

Another elf stared with wide eyes, looking between Anthony, Coco and the sandwich.

Professor McGonagall said: "Dippy, can you help me get another plate?"

The elf was relieved and said happily: "Of course, Professor McGonagall!" He immediately directed the plate to fly over, fearing that other elves would complete Professor McGonagall's request first.

Anthony took the plate from Coco. "Thank you, Coco. How was your morning?"

"You're welcome, Professor Anthony! Coco is delighted!" Coco squeaked. "Coco washed five hundred and seventy-six dishes, mopped the table three times, and picked forty bags of really good potatoes!"

"That sounds very fulfilling." Anthony smiled at him. Dippy put the plate next to Professor McGonagall and disappeared with a "pop".

Coco nodded vigorously. "Yes, Professor Anthony! Coco is going to continue picking potatoes!"

"Enjoy your selection, Coco," Anthony said. "I'm looking forward to the potatoes in the future."

With a slight pop, Coco disappeared.

Professor McGonagall placed the new plate under the original plate and ate for a while in elegance and silence. Suddenly, she said, "Speaking of the future, are you going to watch the game today, Henry?"

"Speaking of the game, have you ever thought about replacing the Quaffle with potatoes?" Anthony said, "No, Minerva, there is no Quidditch game in my schedule. What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Dolores will be very happy." Professor McGonagall said, with a tense face, "She was telling me yesterday that Weasley and others were all to blame, and that dangerous games like Quidditch should be reviewed by authoritative people before being held, and it would be best if there was an authoritative referee - she meant herself."

"She is the referee of this game?"

Professor McGonagall said contemptuously, "She wants to! I suggested that she and Madam Hooch fly a circle together to test our brooms, and she immediately backed down. However, I think she will definitely find ways to prove the importance of the Ministry of Magic's Senior Inquisitor in Quidditch games."

Anthony said, "In this case, I suddenly seem to want to see a group of students flying in the sky."