"Bring some help..."

Hermione seemed a little hesitant, not that she didn't want to share this 'glory', but that it was really good to take unrelated people to open his personal letters without Professor Lockhart's permission...

However, speaking of which, it is indeed very difficult for himself and Professor Bryan to deal with Professor Lockhart, who is famous in the European wizarding world, for most of the day, and a whole week of fan letters.

Thinking of this, Hermione slowly looked back at Harry and Ron, and not surprisingly, one of them was pretending to be trimming his glasses, and the other suddenly studied an old-fashioned meteor broom with branches that were about to run out, and no one responded to Hermione's gaze.

Everyone on the Gryffindor team who saw this scene covered their mouths and laughed secretly, Fred and George's expressions were the most exaggerated, but before he could come up with any jokes, Professor Bryan's sweeping gaze made Fred and George instantly honest.

The Weasley brothers knew better than anyone that the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was no generous man.

"If you really don't have one, forget it--"

Amosta gave Hermione an empathetic smile and walked away.

"You two, you must come with me to Professor Lockhart's office tomorrow, or you will never even think about learning from my work!"

"Leave us alone, Hermione, I don't want to do this again in my life / I'd rather brush the trophy room for Filch again..."

Amosta, who had already walked a few dozen feet away, vaguely heard the domineering sound of the incoming wind, and the wails of the two young wizards.

On the four long tables in the Great Hall, there were small wizards, and on the Slytherin side, Malfoy was proudly showing Pansy and Daphne his newfound charms.

On Hufflepuff's side, fourth-year Cedric walked shoulder-to-shoulder with a few of his friends down the hallway, and as he passed behind the Ravenclaw third-year Chinese girl, he quietly threw a letter into her pocket, and this was the third love letter he had sent this semester.

Qiu Zhang didn't seem to notice it, and continued to talk and laugh with Marietta, but according to Amosta's experience of falling in love in his previous life, this girl with gradually blushing cheeks was probably not far from a complete fall.

"Do you have to do this, Professor Blaine?"

Professor McGonagall looked much better than she had been during the Christmas holidays, partly because Salazar Slytherin's heir had died down since Amosta entered the school, and secondly, Headmaster Dumbledore had been in her office for a significantly longer time this semester than before, which invisibly gave her a lot of security.

Amosta, who had just sat down at the faculty table, pursed her lips and smiled wryly, and when Professor McGonagall called him by his last name, she said that she had a lot of opinions in her heart.

"Honestly, Amosta, you're probably the most decent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts in the last ten years, and you've been teaching young wizards the experience of fighting evil as you did in your previous classes, and by the way, you're teaching you interesting ideas for transforming spells, I think..."

"It's too cold to describe Amosta's new spell as funny, Minerva!"

Professor Flitwick stood up from his chair and said with great interest,

"It's a spell that only a true genius can create!"

He looked at Amosta and seriously suggested, "After stepping down from the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Amosta, I think you can start a separate Spell Model Optimization course at Hogwarts and incorporate it into the Charms Improvement class, I bet the little wizards will be squeezed to get into your class, Amosta!" ”

No problem, Professor Flitwick, when Dumbledore 'flies west', I'll be back at Hogwarts right away!"

Amosta smiled in response, and seeing that Professor McGonagall wanted to continue the conversation, he immediately greeted the professor who was sitting at the very edge, wearing large glasses, and with countless chains and beads around his neck.

"What is the wind that is blowing you down from the tower, Professor Trelawney?"

"Hiccup--"

Professor Trelawney, whose hair was messy, burped and glanced at Amosta,

"The approaching darkness obscured my vision, Amosta... When did you go back to school? ”

"The truth of the matter is--"

Professor Flitwick whispered in Amosta's ear, "Sybil is done with the sherry he hid upstairs!" ”

"Oh, be quiet, Professor Flitwick!"

Amosta looked nervous, his face tense, "I don't want to be prophesied again!" ”

When the three Harry, who had to return to the castle due to the sudden and rapid wind and rain, were about to go to the Great Hall to recharge their energy, they saw Professor Flitwick falling off the stool with a smile on the faculty table, and Professor McGonagall with her cheeks swollen and her lips pursed, and her body twitching.

Professor Bryan was standing in front of a professor they hadn't seen much, his hands folded and his face apologetic.

"What do you two think they just talked about?"

After walking into the warm lounge, Hermione asked with a thoughtful expression.

"It doesn't matter, Hermione--"

Harry, who had gotten up early in the morning and had been battling the icy rain all morning, said listlessly, "I just want to go back to my warm bed and sleep until Professor Bryan's Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Monday afternoon." ”

With that, Harry left Hermione and Ron and staggered to the dormitory.

The rainy weather was annoying, but it was the perfect weather for anyone who had time to take a leisurely nap in bed, and on Saturday afternoon, Harry had a rare nap, during which Ron seemed to call him, but Harry just muttered something, changed his position, and fell back to sleep.

By the time he sat up from the bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes, the dark clouds that had shrouded the castle had completely cleared, and Hogwarts was already bathed in the bright moonlight.

There was no one in the swarthy dormitory, and if Harry was not mistaken, Ron and Seamus were supposed to be playing wizarding chess in the lounge below, or Gobstone.

Hermione, on the other hand, was either reading books and preparing in the library, or writing her homework in the break room.

"Why didn't anyone tell me to get up for dinner..."

Harry, who sat on the bed in a daze, complained quietly as he got dressed, but he knew that Ron had probably already been there, but he couldn't wake him up.

There was a slight smell of sweat in the air, and the source of the smell was that Harry had taken off his jersey that had been dropped on the floor next to his bed, threw it into the frame, and walked slowly to his desk and opened the window to diffuse the smell.

The breeze from the Black Lagoon focused Harry's confused eyes, and he sat down, staring at the half-written treatise on the history of magic spread out on the table.

After two minutes of torn through Harry's mind, the villain, who represented conscience and inertia, finally stood on the corpse of conscience once again, declaring his victory.

"Maybe Hermione can give me some good advice--"

Harry grunted and closed the parchment, folded it up, and stuffed it into his bag, in the dim light, the black notebook that had been living in his bag for a few days was exuding mysterious magic, Harry looked at the black notebook in silence, and in a trance, he reached for the pen again...