Hogwarts: My plants have a hundred million fierce points

Chapter Seventy-Five: Leonard’s Sorting Ceremony.

“Can anyone tell me what happened?”

Professor McGonagall’s serious eyes swept over the students. The culprit Leonard was silent.

How to say this? Say he accidentally exposed a little breath and scared Draco Malfoy to cry?

In his previous life, as a scavenger, Leonard’s hands were stained with a lot of blood, and there was really a murderous aura on his body.

Although Leonard has only killed one person in this life, he still moves by biting the hand of kale, but he knows what that murderous look is like.

Just now because he was in a bad mood, he was already a little annoyed, and there was a guy who was noisy in front of him and made a bad speech, of course Leonard would not give him any good face.

It’s just… A look scares the other party to cry, this kind of thing seems a little too strange to say by yourself…..

“Professor.”

Then Harry raised his hand

“It was this Malfoy classmate who suddenly stopped us and said a bunch of strange things, and he also insulted my classmate and called him a Mudblood.”

Harry was also bad-hearted, and although he didn’t understand what a Mudblood was and didn’t react to the word27, he could see how some people reacted when Draco Malfoy said the word.

The reaction was surprised, and unbelievable, and at first glance you knew that not only was it not a good word. It’s okay to report this to the professor.

“What did you say?”

Professor McGonagall’s face changed color,

“Are you sure he said that word?”

“Yes, Professor.”

Harry glanced at the students around him

“I think others should be able to testify.”

“Yes, Professor!”

Hermione in the crowd raised her hand

“I hear you.”

“I… Me too! ”

Neville hesitated for a long time, and at the instigation of Hermione, he also raised his hand.

“Then I know…”

Professor McGonagall nodded and was thinking that she had understood the cause and effect, but suddenly she got stuck. No, this student who cried scolded others for Mudblood, why did he cry himself?

Professor McGonagall looked at Harry, her gaze lingering on the scar on his forehead and asked solemnly

“Didn’t you hide anything?”

“Nope.”

Harry said calmly.

“Then why is it him who is crying?”

McGonagall asked, pointing to a sobbing Malfoy.

“Probably scared to cry?”

Harry was a little unsure

“Leonard just looked at him and told him to shut up.”

“That’s it?”

Professor McGonagall was skeptical.

“That’s how the professor is, maybe he…”

Leonard said as he looked at Malfoy who was sobbed

“It’s so squeamish.”

It’s so squeamish… Right?

The words were as if an arrow had pierced Draco Malfoy’s heart.

He had a hunch that his plan to show off himself at the beginning of school with his family advantage was shattered. And for a long time after that “good cry”

Labels such as “squeamish” will hang on their bodies.

“If so… Then forget it. ”

Professor McGonagall braces

“Let’s not take an example, classmates should get along harmoniously.”

She turned and walked up the steps

“Let’s go, the sorting ceremony is about to begin.”

The students followed Professor McGonagall towards the Great Hall, where Draco Malfoy, who had stopped in place, froze as if petrified. The students passing by him exchanged their ears one by one, and the sound of whispering reached his ears.

“He said he was the Malfoys.”

“It’s a shame.”

“I was actually scared to cry, it’s so cute, hahaha.”

The words were like a precise mending knife that stabbed Malfoy in the chest, almost making him cry again.

“De… Draco? Shall we go in? ”

Goyle, who was next to him, asked cautiously.

Crabbe, the second attendant, glanced at the auditorium

“It’s okay to cry, but I’m a little hungry.”

With shame in his eyes, Malfoy looked at his stupid henchman and gritted his teeth and roared

“Go!”

Useless waste, just didn’t know how to help him, how could he have such a stupid henchman?

….. In the auditorium, four long tables are neatly arranged, and students wearing uniforms of different colleges sit together in groups, looking expectantly at the new students who are full of ignorance and curiosity.

White candles float in the air, illuminating the huge auditorium.

Leonard raised his head and looked at the starry ceiling and the candle that did not drip wax oil and sighed again at the magic of magic. His gaze fell, and Leonard noticed the professors sitting in the chair.

Sitting in the middle is the greatest wizard, the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.

At this time, his gaze fell on Harry in the crowd, his blue eyes flashing with an unknown light, not knowing what he was thinking.

Another notable thing is Quirina Schillow.

At this time, Quirrell had a thick turban wrapped around his head, and it seemed that he had been possessed by Voldemort. Suddenly, Leonard noticed Quirrell’s bizarre turn of his head and the back of his head to the student.

“Hiss~”

Harry on the side suddenly covered his forehead. Leonard looked over and quickly turned his head back.

What brain-dead operation, Voldemort possessed others to possess their own intelligence?

At this time, you have to look at him to show that you can endure, right? Make Dumbledore aware of your presence? No wonder the wizard war will lose, who do you blame for not being careful?

Leonard noticed that Dumbledore’s expression changed, his gaze swept around, but found nothing. It was clear that Dun280 Bledore knew that Voldemort was there, but he did not know where he was.

So why not suspect the dubious Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Anyway, something happens every year, and if you doubt it, you won’t die. Leonard rolled his eyes, feeling that neither black and white had very clear heads.

If this were to be his Leonard, eight Harry Potters would give you two episodes. In Leonard’s spit on, the sorting ceremony began.

Professor McGonagall began holding rosters and asking students to put on their sorting hats in turn to sort out which house they would spend the next seven years.

Leonard looked at the shabby pointed hat in front of the professor’s chair and pouted without expectation. It was already obvious to him which academy to go to.

“Leonard William.”

Professor McGonagall called out Leonard’s name.

As a child whose surname begins with W, Leonard is already a student in the last few branches.

He sat down in his high chair under the gritted gaze of Malfoy, who had already been assigned to Slytherin House, frowning as McGonagall put the talking hat on his head.

“A rude imp.”

The sorting hat had just touched Leonard’s head, and the folds at the tip of the hat gathered into a face of amazement

“Do you dislike me for being dirty?”