23: Chapter 22: A New Project?
Quirrell’s Bold Idea 23: Chapter 22: A New Project?
Quirrell’s Bold Idea [Respected Mr.
Thorne: The magical creature bone materials you ordered total thirty-three pieces, for a sum of two thousand six hundred and sixty-six Galleons.
Please leave your Gringotts vault number and we will send someone to collect payment.] [Jim’s Bone Shop] Thorne stared at the letter in his hand, brows knitting together.
“Shit…” One Galleon really could stump a hero.
His original plan had been to equip every student taking this course with a decent bone nail.
But looking at the current situation, forget high-quality ones — he probably couldn’t even manage basic bone nails for every sixth-year student.
Although right now only the combined third- and fourth-year class and the sixth-year class were officially running.
With more and more students signing up for makeup spots, he definitely needed enough training tools to go around.
The problem was exactly here.
Ever since Thorne’s “dragon fang purchase incident,” Professor McGonagall had completely tightened the approval process for his funding.
No matter how grandly he talked, the budget was never approved.
Thorne stood in place thinking for a moment, then finally made up his mind.
For the sixth-year course, bone nail training would be temporarily canceled.
After all, without building a foundation from a young age, even if they trained desperately for the remaining years they had at school, it would be hard to truly raise this skill to any real height.
Rather than that, it was better to just let them dive straight into the soul magic portion.
Once he had thought it through, Thorne carefully put the letter away, stood up, and headed toward the staff lounge.
Even if McGonagall was unwilling, he could at least try to fight for it one more time.
Before long, Thorne arrived at the staff lounge.
Quite a few professors were already seated inside.
Red tea and plates of finger biscuits sat on the table, the air filled with the mingled scent of butter and tea leaves.
The moment Thorne stepped through the door, “Earthworm Lady” Professor Sprout smiled and greeted him.
“Come, Eric, fresh out of the oven.” Several Heads of House were chatting on the side.
Thorne walked over and sat down, but shook his head.
“No thanks, Pomona.
I gave up biscuits a month ago.” “Why?” Professor Sprout looked puzzled.
“These have the secret-recipe butter in them.” “That’s right, that’s right.” Professor Flitwick spoke while stuffing another piece into his mouth, chewing happily.
Thorne’s mouth twitched.
“Then you’ll have to ask Hagrid.
If he didn’t have a human face, I’d probably have died together with him by now.” As he spoke, he poured himself a cup of red tea.
Flitwick clearly didn’t quite catch the meaning, but still picked up the conversation with a cheerful laugh.
“Still, Eric, your first class has already become legendary around the school.
In the students’ stories, you’re practically King Arthur.” “Heh.” A cold voice came from the side.
Snape was expressionlessly eating a finger biscuit.
“Stabbing yourself in front of the students — very creative indeed.” Thorne smiled, completely unfazed.
“It’s fine.
You can imitate me too, Severus.” His tone was light.
“I think if you performed drinking poison in front of the Gryffindor students, you’d probably get a standing ovation as well.” In the lounge, several professors lowered their heads to drink tea, doing their best to hold back laughter.
Snape shot Thorne a cold glare and said nothing more.
He simply stood up and left the lounge.
Ever since Thorne had “accidentally” stabbed Snape last time, the two of them had been trading barbs like this on a regular basis.
The other professors were already used to it.
Thorne had also roughly figured out the long-standing tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor within Hogwarts.
So every now and then he would poke precisely at Snape’s sore spot from that angle.
After that, Thorne asked the Heads of House a few teaching-related questions.
For example, how to handle live wires on the level of the Weasley twins without affecting class or blowing up the castle.
While they talked, a cup of red tea quickly disappeared, and the plate of finger biscuits was nearly emptied by Professor Flitwick.
Only then did Thorne hesitantly turn toward the “mosquito” beside him — or rather, Professor McGonagall.
“Um, Professor McGonagall—” “Funding is out of the question.” Professor McGonagall, who had been sipping tea through her long proboscis, immediately retracted it and looked straight at Thorne.
“Professor Thorne, our funding is extremely tight.” Her tone was calm but left no room for argument.
“Current funds must be prioritized for the construction of the soul totems.
This is for the long-term development of soul magic.” She paused, then added another cut.
“Besides, a month ago you already used up every last Knut of the budget you were allowed to control.” Thorne fell silent.
At this moment, Professor McGonagall’s face seemed to clearly display two large words.
No money.
Professor Sprout walked over carrying a plate of freshly baked finger biscuits.
“Actually, Eric.” She set the plate down while speaking gently.
“Your soul magic is quite practical in treatment as well, isn’t it?” Thorne looked up.
“Perhaps you could go find Madam Pomfrey and try to create a new medical project?” Professor Sprout smiled.
“That way, the funding problem might just solve itself.” Thorne’s eyes lit up instantly.
“That’s right!” He shot to his feet.
“Alright, see you all tomorrow.
I’m heading home first!” Before the words had even finished, he had already rushed out of the staff lounge.
Professor Sprout sat back down, looking puzzled.
“Home?
What does that mean?” Professor McGonagall smiled and reached for a finger biscuit.
“For a mental patient, going back to the hospital is the same as going home, Earthworm Lady.” “Perhaps we really should let Thorne go see a Muggle hospital.” “Oh—I see, Mosquito Lady.” Professor Sprout nodded thoughtfully.
“Then I should consider mixing some sand into the new biscuit recipe.” “Cough cough!
Cough… No, Pomona.” McGonagall quickly coughed and waved her hands.
“That was a joke.” And at this very moment.
Thorne, who had already charged out of the staff lounge and was excitedly heading toward the Hospital Wing, was suddenly called to a stop.
“Professor Thorne.” Thorne jerked to a halt and looked over.
A large snail wrapped in a purple scarf was waving at him.
“I have something I’d like to consult you about.” It was Professor Quirrell.
Because a strong smell of garlic was already wafting toward him.
“Regarding… extracting souls and then injecting them again.” “I think we might be able to bring back some deceased magic masters.”