Chapter 36: Grievance

A drizzling rain fell over Scotland, and throughout Hogwarts Castle, the rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops played a continuous melody.

Raindrops gathered one by one on the stained-glass windows, eventually turning into trickling streams that seeped into the soil, which had been fertile since the tenth century.

Madam Pince, the librarian, did not allow Sheen to take home more books than the permitted amount, despite his excellent return record, unless he returned all books, including *A History of Modern Magic*, and signed that crumpled logbook.

Thus, Sheen had no choice but to read two works by the Potions Master Libatius Borage within the library.

Even without taking them home, he still saw the note Madam Pince had tucked into the first page of the book

【WARNING: If you scratch, tear, damage, soil, destroy, throw, drop, or in any other way deface, abuse, or desecrate this book, I will ensure you suffer the most terrible consequences within the scope of my authority.

Hogwarts Librarian,

Irma Pince】

Sheen had no doubt about the irritable librarian's determination; he had seen Madam Pince lunging at young wizards more than once. It was as if she possessed a special talent for immediately identifying and severely punishing students who damaged books.

In the self-study area, the librarian, who always wore an expression of anger, passed by Sheen. Her stern and cautious expression softened slightly, and she gave a small nod before leaving the area.

【Miranda Goshawk, that old hag (strike that), once mentioned in *The Book of Spells*

When wizards have a need, they create spells; if they do not, it can only be because the spell has not yet been discovered.

And now I assert: when wizards have a need, they create potions; if they do not, it can only be because the potion recipe has not yet been discovered.】

Sheen had just read this quote in *Let Yourself Have a Carnival in a Bottle!* when he quickly realized the extraordinary nature and the majestic momentum of these words.

Just as he was thinking deeply, lost in thought over this passage, a slip of paper suddenly fell out.

Caught off guard, Sheen silently took out his notebook and quill to record the text.

【Very good. The fact that you can see this text proves that there are not always foolish wizards in this world.

I must tell you something; otherwise, people will only record my achievements in recipes and processes, while forgetting my greatest and most misunderstood pioneering work in the profound realm of Potions.】

*Greatest and most misunderstood pioneering work?*

*Is it something like heat control for self-igniting cauldrons?*

*Excellent, Master Libatius Borage indeed has more in store.*

Curious, Sheen continued reading.

【When the warning "Only a meticulously prepared potion can have the proper effect" appeared, I actually saw all potion researchers forget to study its inherent meaning.

What kind of researchers are they! They are nothing more than Miranda's slimy, stinking apple pies!

I am certain that spells and potions should be connected by a primordial thread. If *Magical Theory* claims that profound spells require the wizard's own mental strength, then why have they forgotten potions?

It can only be for one reason: they are all ￥*&% (illegible handwriting)】

Sheen skipped over the long string of unfriendly greetings, but the content recorded afterward made his breathing quicken.

【I have completed some necessary tasks—

Improved spells and rituals will place greater emphasis on the wizard's mental strength and will be more mentally taxing.

However, for any apothecary who has reached the pinnacle of technique and skill, this will be an entirely new and broad path.

I must remind you that you should possess sufficient willpower and use it carefully; while it gains astonishing effects, it also becomes more unstable.

It can, of course, still be improved, but my days are numbered.

I have seen the great truth, and I lament that I must spread it in a secretive manner.

Please perfect it.

And please allow me to amend the epitaph that those foolish wizards carved for me, and tell you the true version—

Libatius Borage died in 1961. He spent most of his life engaged in this great work.

Now, it is your turn to study the most profound magic in the field of Potions.】

*Me?*

*My White Talent?*

Sheen gave a silent "mm," suddenly feeling a slight sense of responsibility. He stuffed every single word into his mind.

He had not expected to encounter such knowledge. Master Libatius Borage had actually set his sights on the ancient spells and rituals passed down through the field of Potions.

Sheen had read in *A History of Magic* that the spells and rituals for most potions had been passed down for three hundred years; they were as reliable and fixed as the pronunciation of incantations.

This was a massive surprise. Sheen felt like a Niffler that had found ancient gold coins.

He quickly copied all the improvements into his notebook—there weren't actually many, only a few types—but whether by coincidence, the Scabicide Potion was among them.

This made it impossible for Sheen to suppress the grin spreading across his face.

The magical crystal lamp illuminated Sheen's focused face.

A short while later, he rose from the long oak table. The bells of Hogwarts rang simultaneously with the hooting of owls.

Lunchtime had arrived.

Having had his fill of mental nourishment, Sheen had to consider his physical body. He quickly returned the books to Madam Pince; many young wizards were already in the corridors, heading from the library to the Great Hall.

Walking past the warm fireplaces, Sheen noticed that the Gryffindors were unusually quiet today.

"He must absolutely hate me..." a black-haired boy said with a look of incomprehension. "Narcissus root powder, mugwort... why didn't he ask Hermione!"

"Harry, don't be angry," the red-haired boy beside him whispered. "I heard Snape has always been like this, especially unreasonable."

Sheen watched silently as Harry and Ron walked a short distance away and sat down.

He had some impression of this issue. In his previous life, some people felt that Professor Snape, the "pure love warrior," had problems that, much like his actions, were full of deep meaning.

The language of Narcissus is "regret brought to the grave."

The language of Mugwort is "bitter sorrow."

Therefore, the underlying meaning of the question was: *I express endless grief for the death of your mother.*

Just as Sheen was preparing to dig into his food, Justin sat down beside him with a flushed face, followed by a dejected Hermione.

"Even if it's Professor Snape, he shouldn't act so unreasonably!" Justin appeared very angry, his eyes full of sadness as he looked at his companions. "If a student raises their hand to answer a question and is wrong, then the professor asking the question should also be a fool!"

Sheen lifted his head in a daze.

They had just finished Potions class.

Were they... cursing Snape?

Even Harry didn't seem to have cursed Professor Snape like that before, did he?

"Sheen, oh, I wanted to tell you earlier..."

When Justin looked at Sheen, his anger vanished. With a look of sadness, he explained the scene to Sheen—

When Professor Snape was questioning Harry, he not only ignored Hermione's multiple raised hands but also roared at her: "Sit down!"

"Not a single person in the whole room thought that was unreasonable! Those Gryffindors, they are truly cowards!" As Justin spoke, his face flushed red again, his voice tinged with guilt.

He spoke almost through gritted teeth, "I saw it from behind the door, but I couldn't help... As a friend, I'm truly unqualified."

(End of Chapter)