six.

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When dinner ended, he was irritated

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When dinner ended, he was irritated. Miss Parkinson had found a way to get Slytherin deducted points and it seemed all of the other Professor's ganged up on him and deducted even more, leaving Slytherin and Gryffindor neck and neck. They used to be ahead by a tremendous amount until today. Everyone seemed shocked that he took from his own house, seeing that he WAS head of it. But what happened in the halls was uncalled for. He wanted to ensure upon his students that if it were to happen again, there would be further consequences. But he only expected just his points to be taken, now it seemed that every little thing Slytherin did, got points deducted.

And to his further irritation, the Granger girl did not show up to dinner, which peaked his curiosity even further. Although guilt did wash over him. It had occurred to him that he may have probed too hard in her head and he may have hurt her, but if she wouldn't have been so stubborn, she wouldn't be ill, that is, if she was.

When he finished, barely eating his food, he made his way to his classroom. He planned on staying in there, for he had Potion vials to look at and grade. Not that there really was anything to grade, given the fact that they did exceptionally horrid on them. He couldn't even tell if half of them were Felix Felicis. When he came to Hermione's vial, he was surprised that she had done exceptionally well on it, given the fact that she almost melted her wand into inexistence.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He wondered if she brought what happened to Minerva's attention, or if she would. What he had done, Dumbledore had warned him never to do, unless necessary. But he felt intrigued by what held her attention from her usual adequate actions when brewing, surely she had never been careless before.

When he finished grading them, he came to the conclusion that he would have to have them write an essay, as well as re-brew the potion. He only had one adequate one, the rest were impeccable. He then began grading the papers for the third years, they were to turn in their three foot long essays on the side effects one can endure if taking a bezoar. Once again, most were horrible. He wondered why they even tried when they knew nothing. Surely they didn't read their text books. He remembered Miss Granger's, hers was of course impressively long and on point. One of the few he would remember.

As he continued grading, he didn't notice the ghostly figure peek into the room though the door.

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