Hogwarts: I am Snape

Chapter 111 These are all fire dragons bred in the breeding farm.

The students filed into the Transfiguration classroom.

Snape chose a seat in the back row by the window, and habitually scanned the classroom before frowning—on the other side of the classroom, four empty seats stood out starkly—these were the seats the raiders usually occupied.

"How strange..." he thought to himself.

Normally, James, Sirius, and the others would have swaggered in by this time, but today, their seats remained empty until Professor McGonagall walked into the classroom.

"Quiet." Professor McGonagall tapped the podium with her wand, and the classroom immediately fell silent.

Her sharp gaze swept across the entire room, finally settling on those four empty seats.

"Does anyone know where Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Pedirou have gone?" she asked, frowning.

The classroom was silent. The Gryffindor students looked at each other, but no one spoke.

“Very good,” Professor McGonagall said coldly. “Forty points deducted from Gryffindor. Now, please turn to page 137. Today we will study skeletal deformities in the human body…”

Snape casually flipped through "Advanced Transfiguration Guide," his quill pen moving rapidly across the parchment as he jotted down every point Professor McGonagall was explaining, though he didn't actually listen to much of what she was saying.

Four students absent from the Gryffindor Headmaster's class? That's highly unusual. They never dare to challenge Professor McGonagall's authority lightly. Unless... unless they've encountered something they absolutely must deal with. But now is not the time to concern themselves with their affairs.

When the bell rang to signal the end of get out of class, Snape quickly packed up his books and prepared to leave.

He had already been disqualified from the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and apart from that, he had no other classes all day.

This gap in his schedule is perfect for leaving school to purchase necessary supplies. Besides Muggle lab equipment, he learned from Dumbledore yesterday that Hogwarts' storage cabinets don't have Ophiuchus eggs or Australian Eggshell Blood, so he plans to go to Diagon Alley to buy these materials as well.

In the hallway, students hurried to their next class. Amidst the envious glances of his friends, Snape walked against the flow of people towards the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor. He planned to go there to have an aging potion prepared for his upcoming off-campus shopping trip.

"I need a quiet place to brew potions," Snape thought to himself. They hadn't had time to occupy the magical house yet this semester.

He walked past the blank wall three times until a smooth door appeared on the wall, which he then pushed open and entered.

A bronze crucible and a balance scale were already prepared in the center of the room. Snape rolled up his sleeves, flicked his wand to light the fire, and began to work methodically.

Anti-aging agents are a piece of cake for him.

“Moonstone powder… three drops of leech juice… a pinch of ginger root…” he muttered to himself as he added each ingredient in order.

As he stirred, the liquid in the crucible gradually turned pale purple and emitted a faint minty aroma.

In less than half an hour, a near-perfect aging potion was complete. Snape carefully poured it into a crystal bottle and sealed it with the cork. He glanced at his pocket watch—11:20, enough time for him to leave the castle before the students finished class.

Stepping out of the Room of Requirement, Snape strode through the corridor and arrived at the school gates.

The gates of Hogwarts were tightly shut, bound by iron chains.

He tapped the lock lightly with his wand, and the chain retracted like a snake, opening the door with a creak.

As he walked out of the school gate, he turned around and closed the gate. He then tapped the chain with his wand, and with a metallic clang, the chain slithered back to its original position like a snake.

Snape didn't leave immediately; instead, he took out an aging potion from his pocket.

"This dose is about what someone in their forties would take," he muttered to himself, uncorking the bottle and drinking the medicine in one gulp.

A warm current spread from his stomach throughout his body, his bones made a slight crackling sound, and his skin began to stretch and change.

Snape felt himself grow about an inch taller, his shoulders broadened, and his facial features became more angular. The most noticeable change was his hair—his previously short black hair now reached his shoulders, draped like curtains over his cheeks.

He picked up a stone from the ground and used a transmutation spell to temporarily turn it into a small mirror.

The man in the mirror was about forty years old, with a serious face and sharp eyes, looking exactly like a fearsome adult wizard.

"Why are you an old bat again?" Snape shook his head at the mirror, casually tossed it on the ground, and joked, "Gryffindor loses a thousand points."

After adjusting the size of his clothes with Transfiguration, he vanished with a soft pop and reappeared at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron the next moment.

The old bar still reeked of a mixture of alcohol and tobacco, and a few wizards sat in a corner talking in hushed tones.

Snape didn't stop, but went straight through the bar to the brick wall in the backyard.

“Count up three blocks… move two blocks horizontally…” He tapped the bricks with his wand, and the wall immediately split open, revealing a passage to Diagon Alley.

Sunlight streamed onto the cobblestone streets, and shop signs swayed gently in the breeze.

Just then, Snape's stomach growled—he realized he hadn't eaten lunch yet.

Looking up, you can see several brightly colored parasols set up outside a coffee shop not far away, with a few tables placed under them.

"A steak and kidney pie and a cup of black tea," he said to the waiter as he walked over.

While waiting for his food, his gaze involuntarily drifted to the counter of the Florin Fosco ice cream shop next door. Mr. Fosco was making ice cream for a child, skillfully mixing the various toppings together.

The food was served quickly. Snape ate slowly and carefully, then got up and walked towards the ice cream shop.

“A chocolate ice cream with raspberries and crushed nuts,” he told Mr. Fosco.

“Alright!” Mr. Fosco replied enthusiastically and began to work. He looked to be in his fifties, with a smile on his face and his eyes narrowed into slits.

Snape stared at him for a moment and realized that the kind shopkeeper looked somewhat familiar.

“I think I saw a portrait in the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts that looks a lot like you,” he said tentatively.

“Oh, really?” Mr. Fosco paused for a moment, then smiled even more broadly. “Then you must have seen a portrait of my great-great-great-grandfather, Dexter Fosco, who was the headmaster of Hogwarts.”

"Was it an old wizard wearing a hearing aid?" Snape recalled, the image of a snoring figure on the wall of the headmaster's office flashing through his mind.

“That’s right,” Mr. Fosco said with delight, “just like the portrait in my house, he comes over for a visit every now and then.” He handed the ice cream he had made to Snape, “This one’s on me.”

Snape took the ice cream, then suddenly remembered that in the distant future, this kind ice cream shop owner would be kidnapped and killed by Voldemort, apparently to inquire about the Deathly Hallows, especially the Elder Wand. "Thank you," he said softly, taking out a few silver shicoes and placing them on the counter, "but no need."

Mr. Fosco insisted on not accepting it, and after some back and forth, Snape finally had to give up.

As he ate his ice cream, wondering if the eldest of the three brothers still had any descendants, he walked toward the Slug & Giggs pharmacy.

A bunch of herbs hung on the door of the pharmacy. Pushing open the door, a smell that mixed with rotten eggs, rotten cabbage and all sorts of strange herbs hit you.

The floor was littered with buckets of a sticky substance, and jars containing herbs, roots, and colored powders lined the walls. Bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws, along with a unicorn horn priced at twenty-one galleons, hung from the ceiling.

"How can I help you?" a tall, thin shop assistant asked as he approached.

“I need bird snake eggs and Australian white-eyed blood,” Snape said bluntly.

"We're out of stock right now, sir," the clerk said apologetically. "Bird snake eggs, Australian white-eyed snake blood..." He lowered his voice, "Are you looking to make wolfsbane medicine? Demand has been high lately, and we ran out of stock last week."

"How long will it take?" Snape asked.

“At least three months,” the clerk said, then hesitated, glancing at Snape’s long hair and deliberately somber face. “However… if you urgently need it…” he leaned closer, “you can try Borgin-Bock; they sometimes have… special supplies.”

Snape squinted and stared at the shop assistant for a moment.

"Thank you for your suggestion," he said curtly, turning and leaving the pharmacy.

The sun was still shining brightly in Diagon Alley, but as he turned into the narrow alley next to the tall, white Gringotts Tower, the light immediately dimmed. This winding path led to Knockturn Alley—the darkest corner of London's magical world.

The shop windows on both sides of Flip-Over Alley display disturbing items: shrunken heads, bottles containing suspicious liquids, and strange creatures screaming in cages.

Several ragged wizards crouched in the corner, their wary eyes scanning every passerby. When Snape's cold gaze swept over them, they immediately shrank back into the shadows.

The signboard of the Borgin-Bock store has faded, and the windows are filled with equally creepy exhibits.

Snape pushed open the door and strode into the shop, the bells jingling.

The interior was even more eerie than the exterior. Display cases were filled with skulls and ancient bottles, grotesque masks hung on the walls, and various terrifying metal instruments dangled from the ceiling. Several human fingers were soaking in a glass jar on the counter.

Snape wasn't about to be so careless as to touch these things. He glanced at the items on display, then walked through the shop to the counter and rang the brass bell on it.

The ringing of the bell echoed once again in the empty shop. A moment later, a short man with slicked-back hair and a hunched back emerged from the back room.

“Welcome, sir,” Mr. Bokin said in a slick tone, while smoothing his hair back. “You haven’t been to our shop before, have you? May I ask your name?”

“Neville Longbottom,” Snape blurted out the first name that popped into his head without hesitation.

Mr. Borgin's gaze lingered on Snape's dark hair for a second, clearly realizing that the name was fake.

A knowing smile appeared on his lips. "Of course, Mr. Longbottom. What can I do for you?"

“The Slug & Giggs clerk said you have harlequin eggs and Australian white-eyed snake blood,” Snape said. “Is that so?”

“We do have some Australian white-eyed snake blood in stock,” Mr. Bogin’s smile widened, “but bird snake eggs… unfortunately, are temporarily out of stock. Do you need any more dragon blood?”

“Yes,” Snape nodded. “How much per ounce? I need twelve ounces.”

“Ten gallons and fifteen sieverts per ounce,” Mr. Bogin rubbed his hands together with some delight, rolled his eyes and calculated for a moment, “That’s a total of one hundred and thirty gallons and ten sieverts. But…” he waved his hand in a show of generosity, “one hundred and thirty gallons will do.”

"Is the bottle made of Galleons, or the stopper?" Snape sneered. "I remember the market price is only five Galleons an ounce."

“Look around, where else in Britain can you buy Australian protein-eyed blood besides me?” Mr. Bokin said somewhat aggrievedly. “It’s all artificially bred by New Zealand dragon farms. You think it’s too expensive, and I think it’s too expensive too. The purchase price is already very high.”

“Alright,” Snape stared at him for two seconds, “let me see it.”

Mr. Bokin bent down and took four crystal bottles from under the counter, carefully placing them on the counter. The liquid inside the bottles was a deep red color, shimmering faintly in the dim light.

Snape looked at the bottles suspiciously, picked one up, and examined the viscous liquid inside closely against the light.

He was about to open it when Mr. Bokin hurriedly stopped him: "You can't open it before you buy it, sir."

"How can you know the quality without checking?" Snape retorted. "Can you guarantee the quality of your dragon blood?"

“My shop is right here,” Mr. Bokin said, patting his chest. “Can I sell you inferior goods?”

Snape gave a soft hum, slowly took out his money bag, counted out one hundred and thirty Galleons, and placed them on the counter.

Mr. Bokin's eyes lit up noticeably when he saw Galleon.

"Do you need anything else, Mr. Longbottom?" he asked as he swept Garon into the drawer.

Snape's gaze swept across the store and landed on the hands of a withered man in a glass case.

“Ah! The Hand of Glory!” Mr. Borgin immediately caught his gaze. “Plug a candle in it, and only the person holding it can see the light! It’s the best friend of thieves and robbers! You have a good eye, Mr. Longbottom.”

"Do I look like a thief or a robber, Mr. Borgin?" Snape said coldly.

Mr. Bokin's smile froze on his face, and he quickly waved his hand in denial:

“Of course not, Mr. Longbottom, I had no such intention—”

“Alright,” Snape interrupted him, “do you sell wands here?”

He suddenly realized that after giving the extra wand to Rika, he now only had one wand. If there were any harmless spells to be cast, it was best not to use his own wand.

“This…” Mr. Bokin’s expression became wary, and he said hesitantly.

　Thank you to Xiangpiaopiao Strawberry, Bessibb, Ren Gengshen, Semisanctu, and Ziyourufeng for the monthly tickets.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)