Hogwarts: Don't call me the Staff Maker

Chapter 330 New Course

Chapter 331 New Course

Even after everyone had finished breakfast, left the Great Hall, and walked through the damp grounds, Harry still couldn't understand why Ludo Bagman owed Hillon money.

He originally intended to ask Xilun directly, but at that moment, the door to the third greenhouse was suddenly opened from the inside, and the sound interrupted him.

"Oh, are we here already? Come on in." Professor Sprout beckoned everyone into the greenhouse, then brought out something that, to be honest, Harry had never seen anything so ugly.

It was less like a plant and more like a clump of large, black, slimy slugs growing on a flowerpot, which was even more unsettling.

This thing is still slightly wriggling.

"A mature Babo tuber," Professor Sprout said cheerfully. "You'll need to squeeze it by hand to collect the pus!"

In an instant, Harry forgot all about Ludo Bagman and his eyes were fixed on that ugly plant that looked like a giant slug.

The thought of squeezing the pus out of it with his hands made Harry feel like bugs were crawling all over his body.

"Are we really going to do something like this?" Simon Finigan asked with a look of disgust.

"Of course." Professor Sprout glanced at him. "The pus from the Babo tuber is of extremely high value; does anyone know of any?"

Hermione was the first to raise her hand again.

"Very good, Miss Granger."

"It's the best medicine for treating stubborn acne, Professor," Hermione blurted out.

"Very good, absolutely correct, five points for Gryffindor," Professor Sprout said happily. "The bourbon tubers in the greenhouse have just matured, and with these, we can stop the students from using drastic methods to remove their pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midggan," a Hufflepuff girl remarked, "she tried to get rid of her pimples with a spell, but her wand ended up touching her nose instead."

"Silly girl," Professor Sprout shook his head and said, "But Mrs. Pomfrey has already installed it for her, so you don't need to worry."

"Alright, now hurry up and put on your dragon skin gloves, let's get going."

This is probably the only good thing: they can wear dragon skin gloves—after all, undiluted pustule pus from the Babo tuber can cause some damage to the skin.

Even with dragon skin gloves on, it wasn't a pleasant job.

"This is terrible. Why are we doing this just to get rid of a few pimples?" Ron muttered, looking rather unhappy.

It wasn't until Siren casually mentioned that this pus cost one gallon per bottle in Diagon Alley that things became clear. Among common potion ingredients, that was already quite expensive.

Then, for some reason, Ron suddenly became interested, and even his hands moved much faster, quickly squeezing out all the baboon tubers in front of him.

But near the end of get out of class, he had the most bottles in front of him, which earned him five points for Gryffindor.

"Actually, the process wasn't that hard to accept," Ron said after class, still basking in the joy of earning Gryffindor points. "And once you get used to it, there's a strange sense of satisfaction, especially the moment the bulge bursts, watching a large gush of viscous, yellowish-green liquid spray out—"

"Shut up, Ron!" Hermione couldn't help but elbow him; she had almost forgotten about that scene!

Leaving the greenhouse, the Hufflepuff students and some Gryffindors returned to the castle, while the rest went in another direction to prepare for their next lesson on protecting magical creatures.

This time, they were accompanied by Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy, the person Harry hated the most.

I don't know what happened, but after yesterday's freshman banquet, his two former followers, Crabbe and Goyle, who had already gone their separate ways,

He actually returned to Malfoy's side.

They were standing behind Malfoy, staring at Harry with ill intent and laughing incessantly.

"Damn it, how did they make up so quickly!" Ron frowned. "Have they forgotten what Malfoy did?"

"It must be because the Galleons donated by Lucius Malfoy played a role," Celen said.

He had previously learned through Fred that Lucius Malfoy had donated a large sum of Galleons to the Ministry of Magic in an attempt to drop the charges against Crabbe and Goyle for attacking Muggles. Now it seemed he had succeeded. If it were just the charge of creating panic, they wouldn't be locked up for long; they might already be out.

The group pretended not to see Malfoy and his companions and headed toward Hagrid's cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid was already waiting.

Xiren noticed several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, from which a faint explosion could be heard from time to time.

"No way," Xilun seemed to have guessed what was inside, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Come here quickly!" Hagrid looked at them excitedly, patted the wooden box, and said, "They just hatched; I call them Blast-tailed Snails!"

really!

Upon hearing that name, Xiren stopped in his tracks.

He knew Hagrid wouldn't just leave those fire crabs alone.

But Xilun was also very curious about what the Bombtail looked like.

He leaned closer for a look—well, it felt about the same as the Bapow tuber from before, except it was grayish-white and looked like a large snail without a shell.

However, unlike other tubers, the tubers of the Babo tuber may look unpleasant, but they don't have much of an odor; at most, they smell like soil.

But the fried snails in front of them emitted a strong, rotten fish and shrimp smell, and several witches almost vomited as soon as they got close.

It's hard to imagine that this thing is actually a descendant of a lion-headed beast with a tail—well, at least they are similar in one respect: they both have equally fiery tempers.

When the blasting snail gets angry, sparks fly from its tail. Seemingly uncomfortable with so many stares, the explosions inside the box suddenly became more rapid, crackling and popping incessantly.

"You can raise them yourselves," Hagrid said. "We can do a big project."

"Why would we keep such a thing!" a cold voice said.

Draco Malfoy stood there, his face full of disgust; clearly, it was he who had just said those words.

Hagrid seemed stumped by the question.

"Because it's a course requirement," Celen said, speaking up. "Like how Professor McGonagall asked you to turn your slippers into rabbits."

"Yes, that's right." Hagrid realized what was going on and nodded vigorously. "That's the content of this lesson, Malfoy."

"Alright, even so—" Malfoy glanced at Celen and asked again, "Then what's the use of them!"

This problem stumped Hagrid once again.

The blasting snail only appeared yesterday, and nobody knows what it's used for.

"At least it can be used as a wand." It was still Siron.

He looked at the conch shells in the box and raised an eyebrow slightly.

I didn't notice it before, but now that I'm closer, I realize that this creature's magical reaction is very active, which happens to be the most important condition for making a wand core.

While it can't compare to dragons or unicorns, it's far stronger than dark creatures like Red Hat or Hinkpunk.

From this perspective alone, the tamarin is not entirely useless.

I just don't know if it can be mass-produced.

Xilun glanced at the box again; there seemed to be too few of these.