bookpub Chapter 142 Spraying Venom
Chapter 142 Spraying Venom
Chapter 142 Spraying Venom
Leading the group was Professor McGonagall, who had clearly come directly from the dinner party. She was still wearing her formal emerald green robe, but her expression was completely different from her usual composure, filled with seriousness and undisguised concern.
Following closely behind were Professor Sprout and Mrs. Pomfrey.
Snape, like a silent, clinging shadow, appeared last, his black robes almost blending into his somber expression.
The arrival of these professors stemmed from Lynch's urgent announcement at the teachers' table—just after his raven clone rescued Harry and Ron from the Willow's rage.
As the school's vice-principal and head of Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall had no choice but to personally handle this serious incident involving students of her house.
Professor Sprout, a renowned authority on botany, needed to immediately assess the condition of the beating willow that had suffered such an undeserved misfortune.
Madam Pomfrey was specially invited by Lynch to examine the two children; her professional healing magic could soothe their fright and treat any minor injuries that magical perception might miss.
Snape raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. This man wasn't invited; he'd heard rumors and followed along with a gloomy expression.
His purpose was self-evident; the gaze that had been fixed on Harry from the moment he appeared said it all.
Harry certainly felt Snape's tangible, skin-tingling gaze, but he was too exhausted to pay it any mind.
"Professor Lynch, we're here! Are the children alright?"
As soon as they stepped out of the castle gates, Professor McGonagall saw Lynch and his companions approaching. She quickly stopped and asked Lynch anxiously in a voice that was as steady as possible but still trembled slightly.
As she asked the question, her sharp gaze quickly swept over Lin Qi, then swept back and forth over the two dusty, shaken boys behind him, rapidly assessing whether they were unharmed.
Almost as soon as Professor McGonagall finished speaking, Mrs. Pomfrey demonstrated her professional efficiency.
Without stopping, she walked straight to Harry and Ron.
Madam Pomfrey strode forward. With a gentle tap of her wand, a soft glow emanated from its tip, enveloping the two boys like fireflies.
"Let me see if anything hurts? Are you dizzy?" she asked in a low voice, carefully scanning their arms, foreheads, and knees, from head to toe, not missing any possible hidden injuries.
"They're alright, just a bit shaken," Lynch answered Professor McGonagall's question in a calm tone, slightly soothing her tense nerves. "There are no obvious serious external injuries, but more specific details, such as whether there was internal organ turmoil or magical shock, will only be clear after Mrs. Pomfrey conducts a professional examination."
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and turned her sharp gaze back to Harry and Ron.
"Potter! Weasley!" She finally found her usual voice, the sternness of which made both boys tremble involuntarily. This made Mrs. Pomfrey's examination even gentler and more delicate. "You—can you explain what's going on?!"
"A magically modified, flying Muggle car," Lynch stepped in, answering the two who were momentarily speechless. "Obviously, they planned to drive it to Hogwarts, but the landing went awry, and the car headed straight for the Whomping Willow. I intercepted it just before the impact."
"The vehicle is currently parked by the lake." He paused briefly before adding, "The willow tree, startled, violently attacked the vehicle and may have sustained some damage itself; some branches are broken and sap is seeping out."
He looked at Professor Sprout beside him, "I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you to go and see for yourself, Professor."
"Oh, poor willow! I'd better go check on it right now!" Professor Sprout said, his voice filled with concern and urgency. "The 'hitting willow' is very sensitive and can't withstand any more stimulation."
Before she finished speaking, she had already hurried past the crowd, heading towards the silent, mournful willow tree on the opposite bank of Black Lake, her long robe rustling as it brushed against the grass.
At this point, Mrs. Pomfrey's initial examination was also completed.
"No fractures, no internal bleeding, the magic circulation is a bit disordered, but it's mainly due to extreme shock," she announced confidently. "However, I still need to take them back to the school hospital for a more thorough examination before I can be completely at ease."
Snape's gaze remained fixed on Harry like a cold branding iron, almost burning through his skin.
When Madame Pomfrey clearly stated the preliminary examination results, he took a very slight, almost imperceptible breath. His taut jawline seemed to ease slightly, and his tense shoulders and back under his black robes perhaps relaxed a little.
But this change is fleeting, as fast as an illusion.
The next second, a familiar, sticky, malicious smirk appeared on his thin lips.
“Amazing,” Snape’s deep voice slid into the air like a venomous snake slithering through the grass, “Potter, and his loyal sidekick Weasley, once again successfully challenged the bottom line of Hogwarts’ rules with their outrageous stupidity, and almost—just a little bit—almost let their pitifully small lives be completely destroyed on a tree.”
His gaze swept over Harry with disgust, and the sarcasm in his words grew increasingly sharp.
"Driving a stolen, illegally modified Muggle junk on a whim for a soaring adventure? I'll assume that's inherited from your father's 'remarkable' taste and 'profound' respect for the rules, Potter?"
Snape clicked his tongue slightly, every syllable dripping with venom: "Perhaps you think that showing off on the Quidditch pitch isn't enough, and that you have to put on a spectacular show of crashing to your death on the first night of school? Unfortunately, your disgusting 'good luck' has once again pathetically triumphed over your pitifully poor intelligence."
A surge of hot blood rushed to Harry's cheeks, his previous fear instantly replaced by a torrent of rage. He jerked his head up, his green eyes burning with fury, almost opening his mouth to retort—
But just then, he noticed the calm gaze that Uncle Lynch was casting at him from the side.
That gaze didn't express agreement with Snape, but it carried a power that calmed him down.
Harry's throat bobbed, forcibly swallowing back the words that were about to reach his tongue, but he clenched his fist tightly, his nails digging deeply into his palm.
Snape's dark eyes narrowed with satisfaction at Harry's reaction.
He continued, turning his gaze to Professor McGonagall, whose lips were pressed into a thin line: "Your recklessness and folly have not only endangered yourselves, but also destroyed a precious possession of the school—a priceless and dangerous magical plant."
"I believe that Professor McGonagall—as the vice-chancellor, and their dean—will devise sufficiently memorable disciplinary measures to ensure that such attention-seeking, foolish farces will not be staged again."