October, with the cold front approaching, the temperature dropped a bit earlier this year, catching many Little Wizards off guard, and the supply of stimulating potions in the infirmary was even stretched thin.
If you see someone walking down the corridor with smoke coming out of their ears, you better be careful. Smoking ears are a side effect of the stimulating potion, and the person who drank it must have a cold.
Of course, this definitely did not include Howl.
At this moment, he was in his warm office, with ten stacks of homework floating in front of him on the desk, all facing him. As for himself, he held a cup of Energy Potion, his pupils dilated.
And ten quills continuously dipped into the ink bottle in turn, correcting the Little Wizards' homework.
This somewhat eerie state suddenly paused for a moment when he saw a particular assignment.
It was a well-structured essay about Red Caps, and overall, there were no major issues.
What surprised him was the author of this article.
Ron Weasley.
To be honest, this child wasn't particularly outstanding in Howl's eyes. Howl still vividly remembered the Ghoul class from a few days ago.
Ghoul. When he was looking for a living specimen for this creature, he learned from the Weasley Brothers that there was a Ghoul in the Weasley family's attic.
So at that time, Howl had wanted to give this child more opportunities to show off during the Ghoul class.
But the child was listless, with sunken eyes, looking as if he hadn't woken up, let alone answering questions.
The subsequent assignments he submitted, besides being illogical, often interspersed sentences with deep understanding, clearly not originating from his own comprehension.
But this time's assignment was noticeably much better.
Considering this child's own academic performance and his state in class, and then comparing him horizontally with his older brothers… Howl felt that this child should receive some encouragement.
Thinking this, he added a standardized, encouraging short phrase to the parchment.
Half an hour later, all the parchments slowly settled onto the desk, signaling the end of this week's homework grading.
After a month in the job, he had gradually adapted to this life of finding leisure amidst busyness. As for the gains… if it was the respect and affection of the Little Wizards, he felt he had gained quite a lot.
Of course, not everything; no one in this world can make everyone like them.
As for those who didn't like him, there was no need to care, as they couldn't resist anyway.
After finishing grading the papers, Howl stood up and stretched, his body crackling with crisp sounds, which made Lucifer in the fireplace frown.
"Where are you going?" Lucifer asked.
"Pigs Head Bar," Howl said, then pushed open the door and left after bidding farewell to the fire and the painting.
After the door closed and the office was quiet for a while, Lucifer suddenly said, "That… Miss Sindel."
Somehow, Lucifer had also adopted this unique way of addressing her.
"Mr. Lucifer, is there something?" Sindel turned her head to look at the fireplace below.
"I wonder if you're free, and if you could trouble you to go to Dumbledore's office and ask if Fawkes has time to visit here?"
...
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