Harry Potter Reborn

Snape said: "Students who have read the operating instructions carefully, put your potion samples into a pot-bellied short-neck bottle, then mark it with your name, and bring it to my podium for testing."

"And homework: a twelve-inch paper on parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in medicine, due on Thursday."

Snape's gaze suddenly shifted to someone, and he said expressionlessly: "Pablo Teyera, you seem to have a problem with my assignment, so just write sixteen inches long, and I will check it carefully.

.”

A Slytherin student named Pablo Teyera looked sad. He was the student who made a joke on Snape before class. Unexpectedly, Snape heard it.

Sixteen inches, 0.4 meters.

…

The students in the classroom began to fill the short-necked bottles with chemicals, and then cleaned everything on the test bench.

Harry and Hermione stepped forward as soon as Snape finished speaking and placed two glass bottles on the podium.

Without even looking at Harry, Snape put a score behind the two names on a piece of parchment with a list of students. It seemed to be a perfect score.

Harry had long been accustomed to Snape's attitude. If Snape praised him, it would be even more impossible than if the world ended tomorrow.

Perhaps it was Harry and Hermione's actions that gave the others courage. They thought it was okay for them to have sex with me, and they did not dare to expect to be praised by Snape. As long as they could be like Harry, Snape would not say a word. So the following

One by one, the classmates took short-necked bottles filled with potions and capped with corks, and walked towards Snape's podium.

With trembling hands, Ron placed a bottle of "moderator" that exuded a strange smell in front of Snape.

Snape's expression turned disgusting, he slapped his hand in front of his face, and said with great disgust: "Mr. Weasley, are the eggs you boiled rotten?"

The pen in Snape's hand was unceremonious and he gave it a zero.

"Mr. Longbottom, well, you haven't used it yet and cleaned it up. You told me this is a moderator? I think it's solidified cement. I'm really curious about how you got it out of the crucible."

"Miss Priven, even the feces of Billywig is a hundred times more normal than this pile of inexplicable things like yours."

Priven cried, hiding his face and running away.

"Bert, what is this? Rubbish..."

"Trash..."

…

Snape unceremoniously used his taunting technique and scolded everyone as useless.

It was only a few minutes, but to the people inside the room, it seemed like a long time had passed.

The bell finally rang, and everyone except Harry and Hermione wanted to be the first to rush out of the underground classroom.

When Harry came out of the basement, he found that the sky had become darker and gloomier than in the morning, and raindrops were falling.

There were no classes in the morning, so Harry and Hermione returned to their beloved cabin.

Helena was in the kitchen, making a clanging sound.

"Helena, what are you doing? You are not allowed to use the rolling pin for personal use." Harry said with a smile.

Helena: "..."

Hermione: "..."

After a long silence, Helena's voice came from the kitchen: "...I'm going to make meat-filled mashed potato pies for lunch, and I'm kneading the dough."

Hermione pushed Harry and pushed him to the bookshelf: "Go, go, stay away from us."

Then go into the kitchen.

Helena is a transparent ghost. Her palms and body are covered with fine flour, just like the stars dotted in the night sky. It is really beautiful.

Hermione looked at the kind and beautiful Helena and couldn't help but feel sad for her. Her identity was the daughter of Ravenclaw, but now she was no different from an ordinary cook. She had become a ghost and had to work hard.

"Helena, let me chop the meat for you." Hermione said.

"Well, the finer the pie is, the more delicious it will be." Helena nodded.

The cleaned hind leg meat of a certain animal is placed on the chopping board. The fat and lean meat are balanced, so that the taste of the pie is just right.

"God's Edge is Shadowless." Hermione used magic.

Yes, of course, the troublesome task of mincing meat can be made more convenient by using magic. (Snape: I see. It turns out that the best use of the magic I created is here. I have learned a lot.)

Countless sharp edges scratched the meat, and it was quickly cut into pieces.

Helena said: "Not yet, you still need to use a knife to cut again."

"Why, this has been cut into very small pieces."

Helena said seriously: "I saw a story in "Western Food Weekly". There is a world-wide chain of taco food. Its boss introduced the most advanced food cutting machine, chicken, cucumber, carrot... the preparation work of the ingredients is very complicated.

It can be done by a machine, which greatly reduces the chef's work. But the boss finally gave up using the machine and asked to continue using it.

He uses manual labor to complete the cutting process because he found that the tacos made by the machine do not taste as good as those made by manual cutting. I think this is because the machine is too sharp, although the crumbs cut out are better than those made by hand.

It's still broken, but actually every ingredient has not been destroyed and the taste cannot be brought out, so you grind the meat into mince, which will be more delicious."

Hermione said blankly: "So... professional..."

"Don't you hate living like this? Being asked to do all kinds of things by Harry." Hermione asked.

Helena lowered her head slightly, her curly hair scattered and covering half of her face: "No, I like it very much."

…

Harry was watching an astonishing scene, and words could no longer express his inner shock.

"Although this is a magical world, it's too fantasy."

He saw the cutie squatting on the desk, flipping through a History of Magic with her paws. The sparkling look in the cutie's eyes told Harry that she was not playing, but was really reading the words in the book.

"Hermione, our cat has become a sperm. She is reading a book." Harry shouted.

Hermione was not surprised at all: "You just know? Zhang Qiu and I taught her writing together. During the summer vacation, I took the little cutie to a Muggle institution to have her IQ tested. The doctor said that the little cutie is now about eight

The wisdom of a 20-year-old child, since she can speak, then I will teach her to read."

"You take a talking cat to the Muggle world to do an IQ test?!"

Hermione said sheepishly: "We used the forgetting spell on that doctor."

…

The little cutie stretched, shook his body, and said to Harry with disdain: "Are these the words and stories of servants? It's really boring. How can it be compared with us cat people? We only need to use

The sound "meow" can express everything, and wars have always broken out in your history. You are stupid, and you obviously have endless amounts of dried fish."

"Yes, yes, Master Meow is right." Harry rolled his eyes and did not explain.

The little cutie is just like an ignorant little girl, thinking that Harry and all of them are her subordinates, which is very childish. However, the concept of the cat tribe is like this, and Harry can't explain it at all. Even if Harry bullies her severely,

She will not recognize the reality clearly and will only fearfully say that her servants have rebelled.

Harry stretched out his hand, and the little cutie immediately jumped onto Harry's arm with graceful steps, and Harry held the little cutie in his arms.

The little cutie twitched her pink nose, and a trace of crystal flowed from the corner of her mouth.

"I smell meat. I'm so hungry. Harry, please bring me some dried fish to pad my belly first."

Harry opened a glass cabinet, which was filled with various brands of cat food. These were the rations for Little Cutie and Crookshanks.

"Well, little cutie, which one do you want to eat? Kruisi, Mfudi, Mziyuan?"

The cute little paw waved: "Try the yellow bag on the left side of the second row today."

Harry immediately took it down for the little cutie, placed two small plates on the desk, and poured the dried fish into the plates.

"Crookshanks, come down and eat." The little cutie shouted to Crookshanks, who looked like a big ginger hat.

Crookshanks opened his eyes and jumped down from the fireplace.

The wooden table made a thud.

The little cutie is very kind to Crookshanks. She seems to think that Crookshanks is a subject in her territory. Crookshanks also thinks so, and he is both respectful and afraid of the little cutie.

Maybe the cat tribe also has a hierarchy.

The little cutie sniffed it, then picked up the dried fish and started chewing it "Wow wow wow".

Suddenly, she asked angrily: "Harry, why is there less dried fish in my plate than in Crookshanks?"

"Because it's several times bigger than you, of course it has to eat more." Harry rubbed Crookshanks' hair. Its hair was hard and fluffy, like a little lion, which really matched the image of its owner Hermione.

"How about you eat more and look like Crookshanks?" Harry advised.

"No, no, no, I don't want to eat like that." The little cutie firmly objected.

"Why?" Harry asked casually.

Hey, yes, why? The little cutie suddenly felt confused.

…Maybe it’s because once I become as big as Crookshanks, I won’t be cute enough and I won’t be able to run on Harry’s shoulders and act like a baby as I please. Harry may not like me as much as he does now.

Impossible, impossible, Harry is just my servant, I don’t care what he thinks.

Harry could not have guessed that the little cutie, as a cat, could have such complicated thoughts. He just saw the cutie suddenly stopped eating, as if the dried fish in his hand suddenly no longer smelled good, and then stood there stupidly, looking straight.

The air in front is like thinking about meow life.

…