HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

The next morning, as soon as Harry arrived at the Great Hall, he immediately scurried to the Slytherin table and sat casually next to West.

"West! Guess what we found last night!" Harry shouted excitedly.

West frowned. "Draco already told me, Harry, what you're doing is extremely dangerous."

Harry knew that West was just worried about him, not really angry.

He was putting a blueberry scone into his mouth when he almost choked. He took several gulps of pumpkin juice from West before he recovered.

"Alright, West! I promise I won't go there again!" Harry pleaded. "But Hermione said that the three-headed dog was standing on a trapdoor, probably guarding something."

West knew Harry's curiosity was piqued again. "So? You still want to go in and take a look?"

Harry's emerald eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I want to know what's inside!"

Harry gestured wildly, "You know what this reminds me of? That thing Snape took from Vault 713! Maybe it's still there!"

"Harry!" West emphasized, his expression serious. "Don't do anything foolish, okay? There's a Cerberus up there! And who knows what's even more dangerous down there?"

Harry hesitated, then said, "Really? Would Dumbledore really do something so dangerous at Hogwarts?"

West sighed, rubbing his forehead.

He'd already put a Cerberus in the castle, so he wouldn't be surprised if something even more dangerous happened.

"Anyway, promise me you won't go to that room again, okay?" West warned Harry, and seeing Harry's depressed look, he had no choice but to add helplessly, "If all else fails, you can try to get some information out of Hagrid. I suspect he knows that Cerberus, maybe you can get some information out of him to satisfy your curiosity."

Harry's gloomy expression vanished instantly, replaced by joy. "Oh, thank you for reminding me, West, I'll be there in a bit!"

Harry happily began his breakfast.

When the owls swarmed into the church during mail time, a long, thin package carried by six owls attracted a lot of attention, and it landed directly on the table in front of Harry.

West knew what the package was just by looking at its shape—someone had gotten there first.

When he learned that Harry had joined the Quidditch team, he wanted to ask Hagrid to go to Diagon Alley to buy Harry a good flying broom.

Harry opened a letter that followed with a puzzled look, and after reading it, he smiled in surprise and handed the letter to West.

"A Nimbus 2000." West exclaimed in surprise. "Professor McGonagall is truly generous."

"I really don't know how to thank Professor McGonagall..." Harry muttered.

West ruffled Harry's messy hair. "The greatest thanks you can give Professor McGonagall is to win the Quidditch match."

Draco, forgetting he was still in a one-sided cold war with Harry, asked, "Harry, what's this?"

He casually handed Harry and West a handful of candy that had been sent from home.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled Draco aside and whispered, "A Nimbus, 2000!"

Draco looked shocked, but his eyes were overflowing with envy and jealousy.

He reached into the package and felt around for a few moments, confirming it was a flying broomstick, then yelled, "Harry! Are you crazy?!"

"Shh! Draco! Keep your voice down!" Harry stepped forward and covered Draco's mouth.

Draco yanked Harry's hand away and muttered, "First-year students aren't allowed to bring flying brooms! You're in trouble!"

"I'll tell you about that later," Harry said. "Would you like to try it? Let's go play sometime at noon."

Draco was clearly interested, but Harry added, "But Ron is coming too, and I haven't told him yet."

Draco glared, his gray-blue eyes wide with anger. "I hate him! He's not allowed here!"

Harry quickly reassured him, "But you're both my good friends, Draco. I want you to get along." He took Draco's hand. "Besides, I told you first, didn't I?"

Draco hesitated for a while, then said, "Okay, for your sake, I won't yell at him today, provided he doesn't yell at me."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly took the package to Ron to try and persuade him.

Waiting to be left out: ?

My younger brother has grown up. Sigh.

He sighed, finished the last bite of his breakfast, and prepared to go to class.

In the evening, West went to the cellar for solitary confinement as usual.

He knocked on the door skillfully and, after receiving the professor's permission, pushed it open and came in.

This time, Snape stood in front of the workbench, on which sat a cauldron containing a potion that was bubbling and boiling.

"Professor, what do I need to do today?" West asked.

His gaze gradually shifted from Snape to the potion being brewed.

Awakening agent.

A term flashed through West's mind. This must be what Snape was preparing for the upcoming Quidditch match.

Snape didn't even glance at him. "Go and clean up those slugs over there."

West walked toward a wooden barrel in the corner, which contained a whole barrel of slugs, dragging their wet, sticky bodies as they moved through the slime.

West picked up the gloves beside him, put them on, and resignedly began to deal with the slugs.

By the time everything was finished, it was almost 11 p.m.

West took off his gloves, rubbed his sore hands, and turned to see Snape still mixing potions.

West wasn't in a hurry.

He strolled to the bookshelf and carefully examined the neatly arranged books.

Snape's library was extremely extensive, containing not only a large number of potion books, but also many studies on dark magic and illustrations of rare materials.

Mustering his courage, West asked, "Professor, may I see your potions book?"

The rising steam from the crucible blurred Snape's expression.

He put down the stirring rod, walked over to check West's processing results, and found that West had done a very good job.

He had never seen a first-year student handle slugs while keeping their digestive glands intact and without any mistakes.

It's important to know that Snape usually made his students deal with slugs simply as punishment—the nausea from handling slugs without gloves could linger for quite some time.

His admiration deepened, and he was even ready to nod in agreement to West's request—he was always more lenient towards potion geniuses, and West was Lily's child.

But Snape couldn't resist a sarcastic remark: "You remember you were a freshman?"

West blinked.

After spending a few days together, West had figured out Snape's personality.

West smiled and said, "Professor, I think you agree that ability has nothing to do with age."

Snape silently picked up his wand and gestured for West to look at a section of the book. "You may only read this part of the book. The rest, especially the Dark Arts, are off-limits."

West immediately agreed, "No problem, thank you, Professor."

He pressed his advantage, "Can I come to the cellar to read at other times?" His emerald eyes shone in the dim cellar light, just like the girl in his memory.

Snape turned around hastily, "Okay, but only if it doesn't interfere with your studies."

"Of course, Professor, I will prove it to you with my grades!" West said, but a hint of displeasure flashed in his eyes as he saw Snape's somewhat flustered movements.

"It's too late today, you should go home now," Snape said. "Come back tomorrow."

West nodded obediently, opened the door, and found Snape following behind him.

"...Professor? Are you going to give me a ride?" West asked.

Snape looked away. "I think you realize it's curfew time?"

"Thank you very much, Professor."