Hoare quickly reached out with a gesture to stop it, but the bottle was already empty in no time.
"Hey! Hey, hey, hey—Professor, slow down, no one's fighting you for it—that's actually meant to be applied..." Hoare scratched his head as he retracted his hand, his voice trailing off to a whisper only he could hear, unsure of what chemical reaction might occur when black dog's blood was ingested and met sticky rice.
"Ugh." Quirrell realized the taste was odd only after drinking it, "Ugh, what is this, ugh..."
The taste was overwhelmingly foul, and it kept rising from his stomach, causing Quirrell to retch uncontrollably.
Feeling like everything in his stomach was about to reach his throat, Quirrell hurriedly looked for a trash can.
"That's black dog's blood, for exorcism," Hoare explained.
It was precisely because of the strong reaction that Hoare hesitated to use it.
Who knows where the twins got the black dog's blood from, but it carried a powerful force of white magic.
Once used, not to mention the man with a snake face, even Professor Quirrell's body might not remain intact.
Even holding it in his hand, Hoare felt a lot of the gloom being dispelled.
Now it was fine, Hoare breathed a sigh of relief; Quirrell had done it to himself.
After drinking the black dog's blood, as William had said, Quirrell felt a burning pain inside him, like a flame scorching wherever it went.
The once cold and painful interior now felt forcibly torn open, exposed to the sun, with no shadow left to hide.
A piercing scream echoed in Quirrell's mind, it was the Dark Lord!
He clutched his mouth with one hand and the back of his head with the other, striking a bizarre pose.
"What's the professor doing?" someone asked curiously.
"I heard it's a spell from India, called yoga!" someone nearby explained.
"Oh no! Professor Quirrell is going to throw up!" a scream came from the audience.
"Trash can, trash can, summon the trash can," someone tried to call for a trash can.
"It's not working, quickly find where there's a trash can."
Hoare saw Quirrell's face turn pale, looking like he was about to vomit, and acted with lightning speed.
"Redeem Tongue-Tying Curse," he silently chanted in his heart.
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[Ding]
[Panel Updated]
[C-Level Abilities: Spells (Patronus Charm, Basic Transfiguration {Self-taught}, Petrificus Totalus, Finite, Tongue-Tying Curse)]
[Available Galleons: 2478 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 23 Knuts]
"Tongue-Tying Curse," Hoare pulled out his wand and cast the spell on Quirrell, whose cheeks were puffed out.
Quirrell.
Tears streamed down Quirrell's face.
"I'm going to find a professor!!!" Granger, frightened by Quirrell's crying, ran out alone, shouting, "Professor, Professor, Professor Quirrell is crying! His nose is bleeding!!!"
Hoare watched Quirrell clutching his head, wondering if it was working.
"What are these for?" the people behind Hoare curiously leaned in.
"This..."
Seeing Quirrell lying stiffly on the ground, the other students curiously approached.
Since the black dog's blood worked, why not try the others? Hoare enthusiastically introduced everyone to these oriental tools, giving a very exciting lesson.
When Granger brought Headmaster Dumbledore, who was patrolling outside, to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, old Dumbledore sighed at the chaotic scene before him, feeling he was indeed getting old and couldn't quite understand what the kids were thinking these days.
Watching the two houses laughing and playing together, old Dumbledore silently added, "Quirinus Quirrell, five points for making an outstanding contribution to inter-house peace."
He cleared his throat and said:
"Slytherin! Gryffindor! Five points off each!"
"For your classroom antics!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Dumbledore heard a strange scream and quickly searched for the source.
Hoare was surprised; he thought at this time, the most Granger could find was Madam Pomfrey, not Dumbledore. Was the headmaster so free?
Ignoring Dumbledore's deduction of points, Hoare tightened the red rope binding Quirrell, who was still struggling under his hand.
The man with a snake face was about to be forced out of Quirrell's head!
He couldn't let Dumbledore stop it!
This was his 1320 Galleons!
Hoare could vaguely see the white mist forming from the back of Quirrell's head. Seizing the moment when everyone's attention was on Dumbledore, he pulled out the Peachwood Sword and stabbed it directly.
A shrill scream echoed in the classroom.
The sound was neither human nor beast.
Everyone heard the strange scream, nervously forming a semicircle, revealing Professor Quirrell's body in the center.
At this moment, Professor Quirrell was tightly bound with a red rope, a Peachwood Sword stuck in him, and two chopsticks in his hands, looking extremely sharp.
Harry excitedly said to Dumbledore, "Headmaster, look!" He pointed to the top of Professor Quirrell's head, where a faint white mist was now showing some features, appearing to have a mouth opening and closing.
The scream actually came from it.
It twisted its body, seemingly trying to escape, but the white mist was firmly pinned to the ground by the Peachwood Sword.
"This must be the ghost Henry mentioned!" Granger, ever the scholar, exclaimed.
Dumbledore finally saw clearly what was floating above Quirrell's head, his expression changing sharply, and he cast a "Petrificus Totalus" on the already tightly bound Quirrell.
"Children, class is dismissed now, you should head back." Dumbledore glanced at Hoare, "Henry, you stay."
The previously excited students were now confused by Dumbledore's solemn demeanor, but since the headmaster had spoken, they could only pack up and leave the classroom one by one.
Before leaving, Malfoy gave Hoare a look, which Hoare understood as a concern about being implicated.
He rolled his eyes at Malfoy, indicating he had professional ethics.
Satisfied with the response, Malfoy nodded.
Once everyone had left, Dumbledore used his Patronus, a phoenix, to send messages to the other professors.
After everything was in place, he turned his gaze to Hoare.
"Henry, you..." Dumbledore's eyes were filled with suspicion, questioning Hoare's identity.
Hoare spread his hands, feigning innocence, "Headmaster, it was Peeves who said he smelled a kindred spirit on Professor Quirrell, so I thought I'd give it a try."
"Peeves?" Dumbledore frowned.
Hoare knew that all the ghosts at Hogwarts could be considered the headmaster's informants.
So his words were both true and false.
The truth was, Peeves did say that.
The falsehood was the timeline; it was when he had bought the tools and was testing them on Peeves that Peeves mentioned it.
Dumbledore couldn't summon Peeves to question him now, as that would be like telling the students that their every move was being monitored by the teachers.
"I don't know what Dumbledore has to discuss with a student from my house," Snape strode in, leaving Professor McGonagall, who had come along, far behind.
"Henry William, what are you still doing here! Get out." Snape didn't wait for Dumbledore to speak and directly dismissed Hoare.
"Yes, Headmaster." Hoare greeted the professors and left.
Judging by the reaction, the headmaster had clearly guessed that Hoare was the mastermind behind this.
He hadn't expected Snape to be so protective of his students, fearing Dumbledore would reprimand him, so he let him leave first.
Hoare felt a bit touched.
He should prepare a gift for Professor Snape to let him feel the "love" from a student to a teacher.
Hoare clapped his hands together, deciding to do just that.
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