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Seeing the person who had arrived, the Weasley twins visibly shuddered.
'Professor McGonagall, what brings you here?' they said, with rather forced, sheepish smiles.
As they spoke, they each expertly put one hand behind their backs—Fred snatching the coins and George the betting board with practised ease.
'I came to tell Wood something, but I did not expect to see you 2 here, cheating people with bets again!' Professor McGonagall's lips pursed into a thin, severe line. 'Originally, I ended your detention early so you could help Wood train the new Quidditch team members. Now it seems that you will not learn your lesson until you have been locked up enough!'
'And you, Wood! Instead of seizing the time to train Potter's Quidditch skills, why are you gambling with these 2 troublemakers?!'
Wood's originally tall figure seemed to shrink instantly. He said weakly, 'I am sorry, Professor McGonagall. I was wrong.'
At the same time, he secretly reached out and slapped each of the Weasley twins next to him, whispering, 'You two have ruined me!'
However, the Weasleys twins were not paying attention to his slap at all. Their full attention was on what Professor McGonagall had just said.
'Potter? Harry Potter is joining our Quidditch team?!' Fred and George exchanged glances and exclaimed in unison.
Wood quickly rushed up to cover their mouths, lowering his voice and saying to them, 'Keep it down! Potter is our secret weapon—do not let the other houses know!'
The twins hurriedly nodded.
After Wood took his hand away, they patted their chests and earnestly assured Professor McGonagall.
'Professor McGonagall, we will definitely not do it again!' Fred said solemnly. 'But the Quidditch team cannot do without us—we are the best Beaters!'
'That is right! Our Transylvanian Feint is so realistic that you would not be penalised even for hitting a Slytherin in the face with it!' George started to go off-topic, a proud grin on his face.
Professor McGonagall looked helplessly at these two incorrigible treasures. She had to nod, saying with a stern face, 'See that it does not happen again!'
The Weasley twins hurriedly agreed.
After promising Professor McGonagall, the Weasley twins immediately ran to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
'You mean, you want to bet with me?' Dracula asked with interest, half-lying on the soft sofa in the office. 'As far as I know, your Head of House dislikes seeing you do this kind of thing the most.'
'That is not important!' George waved his hand dismissively. 'As long as we do a good job of keeping it secret, Professor McGonagall will not find out that we are gambling at all.'
Fred, next to him, also nodded and said with a smile, 'Do not worry about this problem. As long as you do not say it, Professor, and we do not say it, how would anyone else know?'
'Professor, think about it—you will not lose out no matter what.'
'We are betting on Gryffindor winning the Quidditch match. If we win, you give us 20 Galleons, which will just offset the previous debt, so you will not lose anything. If we lose, you will make a bloody profit of 20 Galleons!'
'That is right! And even if you lose, it will have a great meaning of inspiring students to win.' George and Fred sang in perfect harmony. 'We heard from our idiot brother Ron that you are Harry's most admired professor. If Harry knows that you are paying attention to this game, he will definitely gain greater motivation!'
'Yes, yes! Spending a little money to help your dear student gain the motivation to win is totally worth it!'
Dracula looked at the 2 of them, their performance lively and undeniably interesting. He was amused by this pair of walking treasures.
'Alright, I agree to bet with you.' He chuckled. 'Even if I spend 20 Galleons just to buy you two to perform a show here, it would not be a loss.'
Fred and George were overjoyed.
'Professor, you are my god!'
'Professor, if you need a show performance, you can call us anytime!'
Dracula waved his hand with a smile, telling the 2 of them to go back to their dormitory and rest quickly.
The twins looked excited. They bowed comically as they reached the door.
Fred, who was walking behind, grabbed the doorknob of the office. Just as he was about to close the door, he seemed to have thought of something. He poked his face in from the crack in the door again.
'Professor, you must come and watch our Quidditch match!'
Seeing Dracula nod, Fred happily closed the door. The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's office finally became quiet.
Dracula was half-lying on the sofa, the pleasant smile on his face not fading for a long time.
'How is it? Being with young people – even you have become energetic?'
On the desk not far away, Nicolas Flamel's figure appeared on the bronze mirror carved with a phoenix relief, smiling at Dracula.
Dracula nodded slightly, sighing.
'Yes, it is good to be young.'
After finishing class in the afternoon, Dracula threw the task of writing lesson plans and grading homework to Quirrell. Then, he covered his mouth and nose with a look of disgust and left Quirrell's rather shabby office.
Compared with Professor Dracula—who had many admirers and was rumoured by the students to be a god—the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching assistant, Professor Quirrell, was much more miserable.
Regarding the perfume on Quirrell's body, the most recognised saying among the students was, as Harry had said, that men with weak kidneys needed to rely on this external thing to find confidence.
As an adult male wizard, Quirrell's eyes often twitched, and his face was always pale. His paleness was very different from Dracula's pale complexion. Quirrell's complexion looked like he was sick at a glance, while Dracula's paleness had a strange, enchanting beauty.
In addition, Quirrell was always very anxious, often trembling, stuttering when he spoke, and wearing a strange purple turban. As everyone knew, the colour purple had a different meaning in Britain at the end of the 20th century…
These peculiar characteristics made Quirrell form a recognised image of a "man with kidney deficiency" in everyone's mind. Everyone pitied him with a sort of disgust, stayed away from him, and could not help but find him funny, wanting to see him make a fool of himself.
At this moment, the laughing stock of Hogwarts was respectfully sending Dracula out of the office.
Afterwards, Quirrell carefully glanced outside the door. After confirming that Dracula was far away, he placed layers of defensive spells on the office door. Then he slowly sat down between 2 mirrors and took off his purple turban.
Using the light reflected by the 2 mirrors, Quirrell trembled as he looked at the hideous face on the back of his head.
'Lord… Master, I have now become the laughing stock of Hogwarts. No one should pay attention to our actions anymore, right?' Quirrell said tremblingly to Voldemort.
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