“When handling horned slugs, you need to pay attention to the distribution of their mucus.
Try to choose them when they are secreting the most mucus.
If you see them extending their tentacles to touch the tabletop,
Do not hesitate; this is the best time to begin the brewing process...
A small reminder: once you see tiny bubbles appearing in the cauldron, you can stop the brewing...
Very good! Mr. Dickinson, handled perfectly.
Oh! Mr. Green, perhaps you brewed for a little too long.
Remember? You can stop once the cauldron starts producing tiny bubbles...”
Inside the greenhouse.
Twelve cauldrons set up on stands were bubbling away, steam swirling and causing the pumpkin-like plants to sway slightly.
Professor Sprout had just finished praising senior student Bruce when she hurried over to Sean’s side to help him put a runaway slug back onto the table.
She smiled gently and said
“Mr. Green, don’t let the slugs get away next time.”
Sean was indeed a bit flustered; he was managing two cauldrons at once.
Senior Bruce, on the other hand, seemed much more at ease.
As for Professor Sprout, she could not only manage seven cauldrons simultaneously but still had plenty of time to guide Sean.
“Observe the mucus, wait for the bubbles to appear...”
Sean recited the techniques the professor had taught him while working diligently.
As time passed, Sean’s brewing gradually became more proficient, though he still couldn't avoid being a bit flustered.
The liquid in the cauldron gradually turned a dark, inky green, and Professor Sprout walked over.
Sean gripped his ladle tightly, waiting for the professor’s evaluation.
He felt a bit anxious—partly because of his poor talent, and partly because he felt bad about the materials.
Horned slugs were not cheap; they cost one Galleon per jar in Diagon Alley.
The prices of materials in the wizarding world were always terrifyingly high.
This made Sean realize one thing: potion-making must be highly profitable, otherwise, one simply couldn't afford the materials.
Soon, Professor Sprout gave her assessment
“Mr. Green, a qualified handling.”
Sean let out a small sigh of relief. Although Professor Sprout told them they could use the materials freely, he couldn't keep wasting them.
Once he got into the rhythm, Sean finished processing the horned slugs before long.
The three of them placed the brewed liquid into glass bottles and selected the slugs with enough mucus, placing them into a large jar.
Professor Sprout said that this selection process could help the young wizards increase their chances of successfully brewing the Boil-Cure Potion.
As for the brewed slugs, they would be used as examples for demonstration,
And to help Professor Snape with some of the preliminary work.
While selecting porcupine quills,
Professor Sprout revealed a piece of news that surprised Sean.
“Yes, children, herbology and potions are always interdependent.
Every harvest season, Severus always comes to the greenhouse.”
Sean imagined Professor Snape holding a hoe and continued selecting porcupine quills.
“Porcupine quills should be about three inches long, with a thickness roughly equal to two slug tentacles...”
Walking out of the greenhouse, Sean reviewed the key points of the process and recorded them all on the parchment he carried with him.
By now, Sean had a deep understanding of the four ingredients for the Boil-Cure Potion
Dried nettles, porcupine quills, venomous snake fangs, and horned slugs.
This meant that the first step of his plan was complete.
Thinking of this, Sean’s eyes grew even brighter.
“I say, Sean, we’ve already left the greenhouse; there’s no need to record it all over again.”
Senior Bruce crossed his arms and pulled Sean away with a helpless smile,
Preventing him from bumping into an upright suit of armor while he was too focused.
On the armor stand,
A lady in a ceremonial gown covered her mouth and giggled, leaving the knight opposite her staring in a daze.
The clock pointed to six.
The breeze was gentle and unhurried.
On the path slanted by the warm sun,
Sean heard the bells of Hogwarts ringing.
Senior Bruce stopped in his tracks.
In the corridor next to the greenhouse,
Leon was holding a book, his blonde hair gleaming in the warm sun, and Pister was holding a potted plant, its tender leaves swaying in the wind.
Both of them turned their gazes toward Bruce.
Senior Bruce grinned
“These two guys...”
He turned back to say goodbye to Sean,
But before he could speak, a piece of candied pineapple was placed in his hand.
“Exchanging snacks, a Hufflepuff tradition, Senior Bruce.”
He was stunned for a moment, but Sean had already walked away briskly.
“Is he really not a Hufflepuff?”
Leon closed his book.
“The Sorting Hat must have made a mistake.”
Bruce carefully tucked the candied fruit away,
Suddenly shouted “Hey!” and, using both arms, scooped Leon and Pister over.
His arms firmly locked around their necks like a warm shackle, locking the three heads tightly together.
“A gap in your defense!”
He laughed loudly.
“You idiot.”
Leon stumbled.
Pister carefully protected his potted plant.
...
Ever since he borrowed enough books from the library yesterday, Sean’s only problem was not having enough time to finish his homework.
The Hogwarts library closed at eight o’clock,
And it was already six-thirty by the time Sean finished dinner.
Therefore, Sean chose not to go to the library and instead returned directly to Ravenclaw Tower.
The Ravenclaw double bedroom had a desk and was thoughtfully equipped with floating candles—
Yes, the same kind as the ones in the Great Hall.
Clearly, it was a great place to finish homework.
Ravenclaw’s wisdom,
Sean thought.
“Sean, are you heading back to the tower?”
At the entrance of the Great Hall, Sean ran into Michael, who was playing Nine Men’s Morris.
“Yeah.”
Sean nodded.
“Oh! Wait for me!”
Michael quickly made his move; his piece swung a big stick and knocked the last piece of the other young wizard away.
“A narrow victory.”
Michael smiled as he put away the pieces and then ran toward Sean.
The stairs back to Ravenclaw were still terrifyingly long.
Michael climbed breathlessly, complaining as he went
“The welcome speech said Ravenclaw helps knowledge-seeking wizards climb the steps of wisdom,
But it didn’t say the steps were this long!”
Michael looked up at the endless stairs ahead.
“Merlin... I have to climb stairs like this for seven years?”
Before he could finish his sentence, a strong gust of wind blew by.
It turned out to be an upper-year Ravenclaw who had entered the tower riding a broomstick,
Causing the surrounding young Ravenclaws to gasp in surprise.
“Cool!”
Michael stared straight at the elegant wizard, his heart heating up as well.
The steps gradually decreased, and Sean and Michael were finally about to arrive.
“...Maybe many people think the glory days of the Chudley Cannons are over, but everyone knows they will recreate the brilliance of the past...”
By now, Michael’s complaints had turned into a longing for Quidditch.
He was just about to continue narrating the glorious history of the Chudley Cannons,
When he noticed the swaying young wizard beside him.
“Sean!”