Oh my God, she'd rather be hung up in the dungeon and whipped than eat this disgusting stuff.
Ah... well, if she were whipped by Draco, Pansy thought it wouldn't be so bad to be whipped by him every day in the days to come.
"Looks like you don't like it."
Dumbledore helplessly stuffed the cockroach back, carefully selected one, and put it in his mouth.
After a while, his face froze.
"What's wrong, Professor?" Harry asked with concern.
Professor Dumbledore suddenly disappeared with the Phoenix from the Headmaster's Office.
He returned after a while, his face slightly pale, his eyes a bit red, looking like he had just vomited.
"That cockroach just now was real." Professor Dumbledore's expression was very troubled: "No, that jar is filled with real cockroaches..."
What Dumbledore didn't expect was that in the Magic Potion Class office, Lucius was laughing together with Professor Snape, breathlessly.
"Well, well," Snape said, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes, "I really didn't expect my old senior—you actually had such a perfect idea. Honestly, I've wanted to do this for ages. Dumbledore always has me brew the Tooth Health Potion for him, and now I just want to vomit at the smell of it..."
Lucius smiled with great restraint but couldn't hold it and continued to burst into laughter.
In the Headmaster's Office, Professor Dumbledore drank three glasses of lemon syrup in a row, just to slightly suppress the nauseating feeling.
Oh my God, he felt like he'd never touch a pile of cockroaches again in his life—as soon as he picked one up, he feared it would remind him of today's disgusting taste.
"If I were you, I definitely wouldn't eat a pile of cockroaches again." Harry sincerely suggested.
At this moment, all the portraits in the Headmaster's Office burst into laughter, led by Phineas, all mocking Dumbledore's predicament.
"I think you're right." Dumbledore said with an iron-gray face, "My God, this feeling is so terrible."
"How about a little more cockroach pile to ease it?" Harry mischievously suggested, knowingly.
Dumbledore felt his stomach churn, and he dry-heaved.
"Ugh..."
Harry found it very novel, in his impression, Dumbledore always had a calm demeanor, and he'd never seen him so perturbed by just a few words.
"I think you should leave now." Dumbledore issued an unfriendly eviction order, "Besides, Miss Parkinson as well. I will notify your father and tell him about your conduct at school!"
Pansy nodded vigorously; she thought she would be expelled.
Thankfully, it's just a letter to the parents, and she felt fortunate, yet warned herself not to touch any Dark Magic items.
The feeling was really too unpleasant, especially the feeling of being controlled by someone, toyed with at their whim... She vowed never to experience it again in her life.
However, what no one expected was that Voldemort, after being triggered by Harry's Ancient Magic, indeed died—but did not die completely.
Only he himself knew that he had the existence of a Soul Artifact, so after the main soul exploded, his consciousness would automatically transfer to another Soul Artifact.
When Voldemort felt a bit clear-headed, he found himself in complete darkness.
He wasn't afraid, after all, he knew with his Soul Artifact he wouldn't die completely—but he had definitely wasted a life.
Where am I?
He thought to himself, but then he heard an old voice echoing in his ears.
"The shameful traitor Young Master Sirius left, and he even had the audacity to escape joyously—because he was a naughty boy, always breaking the rules, breaking the mistress's heart... But Young Master Regulus was well-behaved, he knew what the Black Clan's surname and his noble pure blood meant..."
The elderly voice seemed to repetitively utter this sentence, which made Voldemort a bit upset and confused.
What on earth is going on? Where have they sent me?
...
After Pansy's incident, Hogwarts returned to peace.
Dumbledore resumed his position in the headmaster's seat, but only a few professors knew this was just a setup.
At the banquet welcoming Dumbledore's return to Hogwarts, old Dumbledore sat at the main faculty seat, staring at the dessert in front of him without making a move.
"What's wrong, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked tentatively, "This is the first time I've seen you not have an appetite for sweets—is it these desserts not to your liking?"
"No, I'm fine, Minerva." Dumbledore shook his head and said.
"I admit I indeed imposed restrictions on you too harshly before, but your teeth can no longer withstand overly sweet foods—my God, Severus said, you've even developed a resistance to the Tooth Health Potion!" Professor McGonagall worriedly remarked.
Surprisingly, Snape, who usually disliked speaking, suddenly spoke up.
"Albus, care for some cockroach pile?"
As soon as he spoke, Dumbledore's expression immediately became brilliant.
"Severus?" Professor McGonagall curiously looked at Snape; she knew Dumbledore loved cockroach piles, but hadn't expected him to be nauseated by the name.
Could he be tired of it?
The always very gossip-loving Professor Flitwick also leaned over, looking at Dumbledore, then Snape, his intuition telling him Snape must know something.
"You must know something, Severus." Professor Flitwick remarked shrilly, "Rest assured, Severus, I think if there's something you should say directly, Albus won't blame you."