From that day on, within a roughly one-kilometer radius around Hagrid's hut in the Forbidden Forest, a giant began wandering around irregularly.
That giant was Grawp, and on top of his head, Kasenhis had even stuck a label on him using a name tag.
"If he gets close to you, shout loudly: I am Kasenhis. It will control him for ten seconds. Use that time to run."
Of course, with something that basically sounded like the rules of a creepy story, anyone could guess that there would definitely be a couple of mischievous troublemakers in Hogwarts eager to mess with Grawp.
But Grawp's howls would attract Hagrid, who would then rush out from his hut and, like a proper older brother, chase away the little wizards bullying him.
As for why Hagrid could always show up at his hut to protect Grawp… well, at this time of year, he was always here.
Ever since he became the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, it had been like this.
Because of the O.W.L. exams, and since Care of Magical Creatures was a subject that required constant practical work, well…
Once June arrived and O.W.L. revision began, Hagrid basically couldn't leave his hut anymore.
At this time, every professor's schedule revolved around the students. Even the Alchemy Association's various pointless award ceremonies for papers had been moved away from June because of Kasenhis.
This left those reclusive, socially anxious alchemists, who usually only had the Association as their one social outlet, feeling a bit lost. Clearly, while alchemists were all technical shut-ins, they weren't truly opposed to socializing and lively gatherings. They were just afraid of taking that first step.
No one knew how they got through that month of quiet isolation.
Anyway, last July, right after the O.W.L. exams ended, the Alchemy Association held a banquet the very next day. A few alchemists with terrible alcohol tolerance ended up vomiting on the spot.
It seemed they had been holding it in for an entire month and were absolutely starving for it.
Of course, it wasn't like the professors were working nonstop the entire month. In reality, there was still a tiny bit of time to rest.
For example, in the staff room, Snape sat in the center, listening to verbal attacks from the other three Heads of House.
These so-called verbal attacks weren't meaningless insults, but rather the annual O.W.L. tradition.
As for Snape's teaching style… if a teacher is highly competent and can also make learning enjoyable, then they are undoubtedly a good teacher.
If a teacher is highly competent but somewhat dull or rigid, then they are just an ordinary, qualified teacher.
But if a teacher is highly competent, yet their teaching quality is questionable and they enjoy throwing around trash talk and verbally bullying students, then it's hard to say they're even a qualified teacher.
And unfortunately, Snape was exactly that kind of teacher. To put it bluntly, if you extracted all the knowledge from Snape's brain and had Kasenhis casually craft an alchemical puppet to teach students instead…
Hmm…
The overall level of potion-making in England would have improved by more than just one tier.
In every professor's eyes, Snape was like this. As a teacher, everything about him was fine, except for that vicious mouth of his.
Most of the time, it wasn't a problem. Without Snape constantly spraying venom in class, how would the other professors stand out as better?
But now, with the O.W.L. exams approaching, that mouth of his simply wouldn't do.
In his usual classes, out of a one-hour lesson, he would spend twenty minutes spewing venom. If there happened to be a certain green-eyed, black-haired boy in the room, it might go up to half an hour.
Normally, that was tolerable. After all, everyone knew about the old grudges between Snape and Harry's father. Taking it out on the son was understandable to a degree. McGonagall had also been somewhat lax in supervision back then, and Harry hadn't lost any limbs, so a bit of scolding was just scolding.
But now it wasn't acceptable. Exams were right around the corner, and every professor was squeezing every second of time for the students. Yet Snape was still ignoring the bigger picture and berating people. How was that reasonable?
After being besieged for quite a while, Snape slowly set down his teacup. "This really isn't my fault. If you were to use your current level of magical ability to teach a classroom full of trolls, perhaps there would be a few idiots with a hint of humanity among them. Even then, you wouldn't do much better than I do."
"You could learn from Kasenhis in this regard. His talent in alchemy may even surpass your talent in potions, yet he doesn't feel the need to spout such trash," Professor Sprout said calmly.
"Perhaps it's because he's a good person." Snape shrugged, clearly at a loss for anything else to say.
"Kasenhis, perhaps you could share your thoughts. How do you view those young wizards?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Do you really want me to say it?" Kasenhis raised an eyebrow.
"Obviously." Professor McGonagall nodded.
Kasenhis cleared his throat. "Then I'll say something fair."
"Hmm… well… take an alchemical creation. For example, if I want to make something for combat but my skills aren't good enough and I fail, then with a slight modification, that creation might turn into an egg beater, a microwave, a toaster, even a floor-cleaning machine. Or I could just leave it there as decoration."
"At worst, it explodes and I spend a few minutes or maybe a week in the infirmary. I'll recover quickly."
"But potions are different. I've wandered into the Potions classroom before and seen those students brewing. If they fail, they could actually poison someone, or even burn holes straight through their own bodies with those magically saturated liquids."
After saying that, Kasenhis slowly fell silent.
Hearing his "fair" statement, Professor McGonagall rarely showed such a pained expression. It wasn't that what he said was unfair, it was too fair.
So fair that it gave Snape a reason to refute them.
A failed alchemical experiment at worst meant a trip to St. Mungo's. Alchemical explosions generally didn't carry the kind of lingering, insidious magic that clung like parasites. But potions were different. A mistake there could lead to permanent disability.
By then, students would go from the Potions classroom to the Alchemy classroom, and Hogwarts would start mass-producing magic-wielding mechanical priests. What a blasphemy that would be! All hail the Emperor.. ehm.. too much Warhammer..
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