Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 61: The Lost Ones

Statues are always going to be broken, like the sycophantic Gregory statue at Hogwarts.

Because there was a secret passage hidden behind it, the careless young wizards cast many restorative spells on it after it fell.

Like Professor Snape now, he broke free from a long period of stagnation and turned his attention to the young wizard who was breaking that stagnation.

But sometimes silence is relative.

Professor Snape's gloomy eyes were filled with coldness, but Sheehan was oblivious to the slight excitement in them.

He skillfully lit the crucible, then carefully took the material out of the glass case containing all sorts of oddly shaped specimens.

A white slip of paper was tucked inside the "Advanced Potion Making" manual, and then enveloped in rising steam.

"Material preparation, heat control, stirring, ceremony..."

Sheen recalled every annotation in the notebook,
The steps and details inside are the result of his repeated summarization and improvement.

It is precisely this scientific and quantifiable research that allows him to consistently brew potions at the [Master] level.

Today, the quality of scabies medications is likely to improve again.

This also gave Sheen a lot of motivation.

“If you had any sense, Sheehan Green—you would use those dried nettles carefully, putting them in just as the bubbles are starting to rise…”

Professor Snape suddenly spoke up.

Before he could finish speaking, Sheen placed dried nettles into the bubbling crucible.

At the same time, the quill pen beside him also recorded this.

He seemed completely unaffected by the ridicule.

Snape's somber gaze paused briefly, but soon his voice returned with a sudden clap of thunder:
"Foolishness—don't you know that if you stir it counterclockwise more than two and a half times, the quality of this potion will be inferior to the grime in the crucible?!"

Sheen decisively stopped stirring, and instead counted the seconds before putting the slugs into the crucible.

As it turns out, when mockery goes unanswered,

The only sounds in the cellar were the filtered rain and the clanging of Sheen stirring the water.

Professor Snape's sarcasm gradually subsided, with only a few occasional chilling "guidance" remarks escaping his lips.

until--

"It's time—"

Shin's eyes gleamed; Master Libashi's reformation ritual was a complete process.

It lays the groundwork throughout the potion-making process, but only at the very end does it connect all the previously hidden details.

The potion in the cauldron has reached its most crucial moment. At this point, every small action the wizard takes during the ritual will cause drastic fluctuations in the potion's quality.

The moment Sheen recited the incantation and made the gesture,
Snape's pupils contracted, and he strode forward, his black robes billowing like dark clouds, almost instantly reaching the cauldron.

The two strips of paper were tightly clenched in his large hand, yet they didn't change shape in the slightest.

It was enchanted with multiple protective spells.

Unaware, Sheen was completely absorbed in the potion.

He seemed to have transformed back into that sorcerer who painstakingly brewed scabies medicine.

A powerful emotion enveloped him and led him to see the subtle, flowing magic.

really--

He sensed the change in the magic within the cauldron and vaguely perceived how to guide it to fuse more thoroughly, thus brewing a qualified potion.

But the storm inside the cellar was almost as fierce as the one outside.

Snape stared into those emerald green eyes, into that extremely familiar technique:

"Where did you learn that?!"

[You have successfully brewed a pot of scabies medicine to expert standards. Proficiency +50]

The notification on the panel sounded simultaneously with Professor Snape's suppressed growl.
It was so intense that Sheen shuddered.

"Let yourself experience a carnival in a bottle!" - Professor.

Sheen couldn't understand this anger.

"Give me the note."

Professor Snape's voice sounded like it was being squeezed out of his throat. Sheen silently took a flat strip of paper from "Advanced Potions Making," on which were written knowledge about the timing and temperature of the fire.

At the very edge of the note, in a place that is almost invisible
It has a faint "three" written on it.

When Sheen noticed this, he quickly glanced at the note he had taken from "Let Yourself Have a Carnival in a Bottle!"

There was a faint "two" written on it.

Professor Snape's expression was difficult to discern in the dim light.
Only the torrential rain pounding the cellar made it almost impossible for Sheen to hear the professor's faint whispers—if he were speaking at all.

"Sheen Green, get out of my cellar—now! Right now!"

His anger seemed to have been building up for decades.

Sheen had already sensed the ominous atmosphere and was preparing to leave.

But a note suddenly floated out from "Advanced Potion Making".

Sheen stood there, stunned, holding the note.

He stared stiffly into Professor Snape's murderous gaze.

"Idiot! Get out of here!!!"

Sheen grabbed the note and ran, but he was much gentler when closing the cellar door.

In the end what happened?
What does that number represent?
How many people know this knowledge?

If Professor Snape knew about the temperature of the fire, then who was the second person to know about the temperature of the fire?
But why didn't he or she know anything about the ritual?

Sheen's doubts were like raindrops gathering on a Gothic stained-glass window, eventually turning into an unsolvable mystery that flowed into the earth.

In the cellar.

The cold stone walls permeated with an eternal dampness, mixed with the bitter and sharp smell of aged potion ingredients, solidifying into a unique atmosphere belonging to Severus Snape.

He huddled behind the huge black oak desk, like a bat lurking deep in a rock crevice, watching the notes—that was all he could do.

In the book "Advanced Potion Making," two slips of paper are stacked together, with the numbers "one" and "three" written on them.
The missing photo, which holds the only day he ever saw bright sunshine, is a secret he once shared with someone...

In "Let Yourself Have a Carnival in a Bottle!", however, "one" and "two" are scattered throughout.

The disappearance of these people was solely due to his mistake...

His fingers loosened slightly; the paper strip remained intact, but his movements were slow, almost exhausting.

His gaze fell on the lost note, as if he could see through the wall and into the rainy night and the breakup long ago.

Hatred clashed violently with an unspeakable, tearing rage in his chest.

He seemed to hear that word again, the sin that he could never atone for in his lifetime.

So the past gripped his throat like a ghost.

He thought he would hold onto the note forever, until that fool broke into the cellar.

His expression was complicated.

He knew that the notes would eventually be discovered by the next person...

Truth never ends.

It's like love and hate.

……

in the corridor,
The torchlight shone on the armor, reflecting its light.

A short, stout knight weaves through different paintings, occasionally knocking over a witch's wine glass.

The other person greeted me with a bouquet of flowers.

Sir Cadogan, unconcerned, muttered under his breath:

"Ah—I thought that old story would never change. He clung to those hatreds, having forgotten his past love for potions."
And now, a new, faint story seems to be emerging, hmm, is it hope? That's what they all say..."

Just as Sheen passed by,
A figure shrouded in dark clouds suddenly appeared in front of him.

Sheehan looked nervously at the suddenly appearing Professor Snape.

Green was reflected in his dark black eyes:
"I want to see you in the cellar for three days after Thursday every week. Don't let me regret making this decision..."

　Sorry, I'm out of breath. I'll post another update at midnight.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)