Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 71: Notes

The warmth of the cauldron could not conceal Snape's icy rage.

Nimbus 2000.

This word is like a key, instantly unlocking a box of memories filled with humiliation, jealousy, and powerlessness.

When those eyes met those foolish activities again, a sharp anger of betrayal and deception surged up instantly.

He almost blurted out the most vicious sarcasm, wanting to smash the broom along with all the sordid memories it represented.

Sheehan was focused on processing the materials, completely unaware of Professor Snape's murderous gaze.

Professor Sprout had just taught him techniques for processing galangal powder, wood sorrel, wormwood, and aloe vera juice.

If he doesn't focus on processing the notes, he's bound to miss some small details.

So he took the notebook and examined it carefully by the light of the magic candle.

Sensing something amiss, he turned around and met Professor Snape's chilling gaze.

He was so focused that he didn't notice anything amiss and quietly turned back to tending to the oxalis.

He quietly reviewed his handling of the situation, wondering which step might have gone wrong.

Professor Snape was undoubtedly harsh, after all, he only wanted to teach geniuses, not ordinary people.

His teaching methods were like applying the standards for doctoral students to children who had just graduated from elementary school.
What he considers obvious things are like gibberish to some children.

For most junior wizards, his harshness was so striking that even mentioning him was frightening.

But for Sheen...

He is a good professor.

Sheen carefully chopped the wood sorrel, a pale pink herb with a faint, vinegar-like aroma. It was called wood sorrel because it resembled the physalis of the lantern plant.

In the wizarding world, it can be used in several potions.

But when the notebook was taken away, and the little wizard in front of him reverted to his previous flustered state as he frantically brewed potions,...

Snape's anger subsided considerably under the focused gaze of his green eyes.

Complex emotions also flashed in his cold and deep eyes.

Watching the young wizard work tirelessly for so long, only to produce some subpar materials in the end, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt:
"Idiot! If you continue to use those poorly ground, sparsely juiced materials, get out of the cellar!"

Sheen silently retrieved the materials he was about to put into the crucible and began to process them again according to Professor Snape's instructions.

At this moment, Snape's gaze was almost scrutinizing; he could not tolerate the noble potion being associated with that sordid sport in the slightest.

Nimbus 2000, brewing potions, making money...

He instantly came to a natural conclusion:

An orphan with no source of income studies the most expensive broom, hoping to buy it by brewing and selling magic potions.

How vulgar! How pathetic!
It was so pathetic that he couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.

"Heh heh—the utterly pathetic loner—"

Before he could finish speaking, Sheen had already put down his notebook, and the materials he added caused the crucible to boil rapidly.
The raging flames distorted the surrounding air and Snape's shadow.

The sudden heatwave caused the notebook to slowly turn its pages, and a line of text appeared before Snape's eyes.

The Nimbus 2000 demonstrated excellent emergency turning capabilities during its flight tests this morning.
The key to this control isn't relying on the waist and abdomen, but rather on guiding the second set of spells on the left rear side with the mind. It's almost identical to the final step of potion preparation; indeed, magic is connected by a fundamental thread.

In his haste, Sheen quickly turned his head, and Professor Snape's words caught in his throat.

"A truly pathetic cooking technique! I think your monstrous brain simply cannot comprehend the exquisite beauty of slow simmering."

Then you should study what's written on page 63 of the *Book of Potions*, in the bottom left corner—"When boiling anti-swelling potions, the heat should be doubled!"

Sheehan seemed to ignore the professor's scolding, focusing intently on adjusting the heat to the second.
The bubbles inside the crucible surged and burst rapidly, releasing a mesmerizing cloud of white smoke.

He also recalled the book he had just come across.

This was written by Sigmund, a famous apothecary who left Hogwarts.
By the time he was fourteen, he was already the best potion student in his class, and he could even correct the teacher's mistakes when making potions using the tail of a soft-clawed land shrimp.

After feeling fully prepared, he asked the headmaster for permission to participate in the Magic School Potions Tournament.

However, the principal at the time refused because he was not yet seventeen years old and the tournament was too dangerous for him.

Enraged, Bucky decided to leave the school in protest.

Bucky felt that Hogwarts was a school that wanted to stifle his potential to become a great pharmacist, so he never regretted his decision.

But what impressed Sheen the most were the funny things that happened during his time at Hogwarts—

At that time, one of Bucky's rivals splashed love potion on himself and ended up falling in love with the Potions teacher.

Later, whenever his laughter potion required loud, uncontrollable laughter, he would think of this incident.

It seemed like just a trivial little anecdote, but Sheen keenly noticed something.

Since the potion of laughter requires loud, uncontrollable laughter, can we reasonably infer that other potions also require the wizard's emotions?

Perhaps the emotions displayed during Master Libashe Polachi's ritual were not the end goal, but rather a focus on and desire for the potion's success.

In other words, it reinforces belief.

The advancement of potions, perhaps like spells, requires even more refined emotions.

For example, the Levitation Charm can free one from levitation, and the Luminescent Charm can grant the desire for light...

Potions and spells should be connected by a fundamental thread.

Professor Snape's face was no longer visible in the firelight; his anger vanished in an instant, and his body hid in the shadows of the cellar.

Sheehan Green already had a broom; where it came from was irrelevant.

Importantly, he loved potions, a fact already proven by both Snape and Polacht.

Those who don't love potions will never get those notes.

So what exactly is he suspecting?
The twisted rage and the note in his hand reminded him once again of those irreversible words, and today, this incident almost repeated itself.

“Sheen Green…”

His black robes fluttered slightly, and his cold gaze looked down at Sheen.

"Ha—perhaps you'd like to explain—you're using this stupid broom to perform some…stupid acrobatics?"

His gaze returned to that distant Hogwarts, if only he hadn't let anger cloud his judgment, if only he hadn't uttered those words, and instead remained as he was now…

The crucible bubbled and gurgled, the setting sun shone through the cracks, and the melancholy in Snape's eyes coalesced into a cocoon in the moss on the cellar stone slabs.
The spiders here have lived for a long time, and this seems to be the first time they've been exposed to the sun naked.

(End of this chapter)