The god of flesh and blood magic at Hogwarts!

"Offensive and defensive type change... type change, your uncle!" Thorne couldn't help cursing in his heart when he heard Madam Pomfrey's muttering.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked subconsciously as she looked at Thorne's face turning red and white.

"I'm thinking about happy things."

"......"

"I'd better drink the medicine." Thorne shook his head and drank the potion left by Madam Pomfrey. In an instant, the dizzy feeling in his head immediately dissipated, and the whole person felt relieved.

"Huh, it's almost done, let's leave the hospital." Thorne said, lifting the quilt and getting out of bed.

"Can you do it? Or lie down for a while?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"It's okay, it's okay, then, can you wear my robe to cover it? Your clothes are full of holes." Thorne handed his outer robe to Hermione.

"Thank you." Hermione took the robe and immediately put it on herself.

After leaving the infirmary, the two went back to their own homes tacitly.

Thorne was lying on the bed, Goyle and Crabbe went to bed early, and the things he asked them to buy for him were packed and placed on his bed.

"Finally, I don't have to worry about it anymore." He put the things in his cabinet, stretched out on the bed and murmured.

........................

That day.......

"Thorne, Flint is looking for you outside." Goyle said to Thorne after returning to the dormitory.

"Which outside? Outside the dormitory or the lounge?"

"Just outside our dormitory door." Goyle replied.

Thorne nodded and walked out of the dormitory, and saw Flint waiting for him outside the door.

"Black! It's been almost two months since Malfoy was beaten into the hospital by that magical animal. No matter how I asked him to leave the hospital for training every day, he didn't come out. I came to see if you have any ideas?" Flint asked when he saw Thorne.

"Ah..." Thorne began to think about how to get that guy out of the infirmary. After all, Draco had been lying in the ward for two months in order to kick Hagrid out of Hogwarts. He couldn't stand seeing Draco going back and forth between the hall, classroom and ward every day.

Although he had the same interests as himself, he couldn't just lie there like that.

".........Who will be the referee of the Quidditch Cup this time?" Thorne asked.

"Our dean."

"Tell him to pretend to be sick as usual, and pretend to play with illness when the time comes. Then when you see that the situation is not good on the field, you can just let him lie on the ground and suspend the game directly. You can use this reason to lure him out of the ward, give it a try." Thorne said.

"Will this work?"

"Try it?"

"Then I'll try it."

After sending Flint away, Thorne returned to his bed and lay down. He was also surprised that two months had passed without him noticing. But that was right, there was nothing major at school this semester.

Even if I didn't intervene, at most there would be a few more... dozens of Dementors in the school, and other dangerous factors would have nothing to do with ordinary little wizards.

But from this point of view... I am really great.

Thorne sighed. He has been in Hogwarts for three years. This year is the year when there is absolutely no enemy and no trouble. He can experience campus life well instead of role-playing with some senior without a nose.

But I don't know whether it is my idea or Flint's efficiency. Anyway, before noon, Draco returned to the dormitory, hurriedly took his training equipment and left.

At lunch, Thorne lightly crossed out a small diary in his notebook. Perhaps it was his intervention that caused Harry's Nimbus 2000 to not be broken by the Whomping Willow, so that Sirius didn't remember to buy him a new broom.

But he seemed to remember that the words of wizards were magical. If they didn't say that their words would come true, they would pay for what they said, for example, swearing that it would come true in the dark.

Although he was not from Gryffindor, Hermione told him about Harry swearing on his broom in the first grade. Maybe Merlin was having so much fun that he forgot about it until today.

The Quidditch field in the morning belonged to Gryffindor, and in the afternoon it belonged to Slytherin. Thorne, who was having lunch, had just put away the notebook with the crosses on it when he saw Harry walking into the castle with the Nimbus 2000 broken into several sections. Looking at that... it should be impossible to repair it.

".........."

Thorne was silent for a while, took out the notebook again, and circled the date of tomorrow. If nothing unexpected happened, Harry's Firebolt should be delivered within seven days. By then, he, who witnessed all this, would have checked in.

For the next seven days, Thorne would never have breakfast every day.Procrastinating, insisting on punching in every day, just like that, four days passed, and there were seven more crosses on the diary in the notebook.

"..............This shouldn't be?"

Although Sirius was not in Hogwarts during this period, Harry had asked for the address of Black's old house when he wrote to Sirius before. Thorne was afraid that Sirius was not in the old house, so he specially cast a tracking spell on the owl.

Just that magic owl with speed, endurance and occasional causality, Sirius was sent to America in just three days, and it shouldn't be that the broom hasn't been sent yet.

"You have no appetite these two days, and you can't eat much for breakfast. You just write and draw in this notebook. What's the matter?" Draco sat next to Thorne and kept showing off the food in his mouth, and said when he had time.

"Nothing, how is the training during this period?" Thorne put away the notebook and asked.

"That's all. Your idea...although it's dirty, I think the chances of winning are very high. Of course, if you help this time...never mind, sending you to Gryffindor is like sending a sheep into a tiger's mouth, don't worry about it." Draco said awkwardly.

"Emmmm...what does it mean?"

"It means literally. Figure it out yourself."

After breakfast, the first class is Defense Against the Dark Arts. After two months of intensive remedial classes, Lupin has finally progressed to the study and application of defensive spells.

For example, in the classroom at this moment, Thorne is helping Lupin correct some of the little wizards' mistakes in the Iron Armor Charm, although he himself doesn't know what the so-called mistakes are, as long as he believes in his heart.

But he asked many people himself, maybe their hearts are too chaotic and they can't concentrate their will, or it may be some other reasons. In short, among the little wizards, only he can use abstract will to cast spells, rather than concrete casting gestures and spells.