Chapter 22: 22: Preserved Jackfruit

“When processing horned slugs, you must pay attention to the distribution of their mucus,

and try to choose the moment when they are secreting the most.

If you see them extending their tentacles to touch the tabletop,

do not hesitate; that is the best time to begin brewing...

A small reminder: when you see tiny bubbles rising in the cauldron, you may stop the brewing...”

“Very good! Mr. Dickinson, handled perfectly.

Oh! Mr. Green, perhaps you boiled yours a little too long.

Remember? You can stop once the cauldron begins to produce tiny bubbles...”

In the greenhouse.

Twelve cauldrons stood arranged, bubbling away amidst a thick mist of steam that made the pumpkin-shaped plants sway slightly.

Professor Sprout, having just finished praising senior student Bruce, hurried to Sean's side to help him return the escaped slug to the tabletop.

She smiled gently and said,

“Mr. Green, don't let the slugs escape next time.”

Sean was indeed a bit flustered; he was handling two cauldrons at once.

Bruce, on the other hand, appeared much more composed.

As for Professor Sprout, she was not only capable of brewing seven cauldrons simultaneously but also had plenty of time to guide Sean.

“Observe the mucus, wait for the bubbles...”

Sean muttered the professor's techniques under his breath as he worked diligently.

As time passed, Sean's brewing gradually became more proficient, though he still couldn't entirely avoid a bit of clumsiness.

The liquid in the cauldron gradually turned a dark forest green, and Professor Sprout stepped forward.

Sean gripped his spoon tightly, waiting for the professor's evaluation.

He felt somewhat anxious, partly due to his poor natural talent and partly because he hated wasting materials.

Horned slugs were not cheap; the price in Diagon Alley was one Galleon per jar.

The prices of magical ingredients were always terrifyingly high,

which made Sean realize one thing: potion-making had to be highly profitable, otherwise, one could never afford the materials.

Soon, Professor Sprout gave her verdict

“Mr. Green, a satisfactory processing.”

Sean breathed a small sigh of relief. Although Professor Sprout allowed them to use the materials freely, he couldn't keep wasting them.

Once he got into the rhythm, Sean finished processing the horned slugs in no time.

The three of them placed the brewed liquid into glass vials, and selected the slugs with sufficient mucus to place into a large jar.

Professor Sprout explained that

this selection process would help the young wizards increase their success rate in brewing Scabard Potion.

As for the processed slugs, they would serve as exemplary demonstrations

and help Professor Snape with some of the preliminary work.

While selecting porcupine quills,

Professor Sprout also revealed a piece of news that surprised Sean.

“Yes, children, herbology and potion-making are always interdependent.

Every harvest season, Severus always comes to the greenhouse.”

Sean imagined the image of Professor Snape holding a hoe, then went back to picking porcupine quills.

“Porcupine quills should be about three inches long, with a thickness roughly equal to two slug tentacles...”

As he walked out of the greenhouse, Sean reviewed the key processing points and recorded them all on the parchment he carried with him.

By now, Sean had gained a profound understanding of the four ingredients for Scabard Potion

Dried Nettle, Porcupine Quill, Venomous Snake Fang, and Horned Slug.

This meant the first step of his plan was complete.

At the thought 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 again, is there?”

Bruce, with his arms crossed, pulled Sean away somewhat helplessly,

preventing the overly focused boy from bumping into a standing suit of armor.

On the armor stand,

a lady in a ceremonial gown covered her mouth and giggled, leaving the knight opposite her staring blankly.

The clock pointed to six.

A gentle breeze blew unhurriedly,

along a path slanted by the warm sun,

and Sean heard the bells of Hogwarts ring.

Bruce stopped walking.

In the corridor beside the greenhouse,

Leon was holding a book, his blond hair shimmering in the warm sunlight, while Pistre held a potted plant, its tender leaves swaying in the wind.

Both turned their gaze toward Bruce.

Bruce grinned

“These two guys...”

He turned to say goodbye to Sean,

but before he could speak, a piece of candied pineapple was placed in his hand.

“Exchanging snacks—Hufflepuff tradition, Bruce.”

Before he could react, Sean had already walked away briskly.

“Is he really not a Hufflepuff?”

Leon closed his book.

“Perhaps the Sorting Hat made a mistake.”

Bruce carefully tucked the candied fruit away,

then suddenly let out a "Hey!" and reached out with both arms to scoop Leon and Pistre toward him.

His strong arms wrapped around their necks like a warm lock, binding the three heads firmly together.

“Caught you!”

He laughed loudly.

“Idiot,” Leon stumbled.

Pistre, meanwhile, carefully shielded his potted plant.

...

Since borrowing enough books from the library yesterday, Sean's only problem was not having enough time to complete his assignments.

At eight o'clock, the Hogwarts library would close,

and it was already six-thirty by the time Sean finished dinner.

Therefore, instead of going to the library, Sean went straight back to the Ravenclaw Tower.

The Ravenclaw dormitories featured desks and were thoughtfully equipped with floating candles—

yes, the exact same kind found in the Great Hall.

Clearly, it was a good place to finish homework.

*Ravenclaw wisdom,*

Sean thought.

“Sean, are you heading back to the tower?”

At the entrance to the Great Hall, Sean ran into Michael, who was playing a game of Gobstones.

“Yeah,”

Sean nodded.

“Oh! Wait for me!”

Michael quickly made a move; his piece swung like a club, knocking the opponent's last piece flying.

“A narrow victory.”

Michael smiled as he packed up his pieces and ran toward Sean.

The climb back up the Ravenclaw stairs was still terrifyingly long.

Michael climbed while panting and complaining

“The welcome speech said Ravenclaw helps inquisitive wizards climb the steps of wisdom,

but it didn't say the steps were this long!”

Michael looked up at the seemingly endless staircase ahead.

“Merlin... am I going to climb these stairs for seven years?”

Before he could finish, a strong gust of wind swept past.

It was an older Ravenclaw entering the tower on a broom,

drawing gasps from the younger students nearby.

“Cool!”

Michael stared wide-eyed at the elegant wizard, his heart racing with excitement.

As the steps gradually decreased, Sean and Michael finally neared their destination.

“...Perhaps many believe the glorious era of the Chudley Cannons has ended, but everyone knows it will return to its former glory...”

By now, Michael's complaining had turned into a longing for Quidditch.

He was about to continue narrating the glorious history of the Chudley Cannons,

when he noticed the swaying student beside him.

“Sean!”

(End of Chapter)