Days at Hogwarts

Chapter 183 Potion Event

"Oh, right!" Professor Flitwick looked to the other side, "Pomona, isn't Herbalism planning to start a club? Many students are looking forward to it."

The slightly overweight Professor Sprout paused his meal, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Don't try to comfort me with that. How could any little wizard enjoy working in a greenhouse and dealing with the soil?"

Dumbledore suddenly turned his head, raising his eyebrows dramatically: "Don't underestimate the charm of those interesting plants. This isn't just empty talk; at least many Gryffindor students enjoy tending to herbs."

Professor McGonagall patted her on the shoulder: "There must be many more little wizards like this at Hufflepuff House!"

"My colleagues at Hogwarts have such lovely voices," Professor Sprout couldn't help but smile.

"Well, I'll think about it. But for now, I can take care of the greenhouse by myself. Maybe I'll start a herbalism club when I feel I need help."

The atmosphere at the table was harmonious, and each club had a bright future.

While some rejoiced, others were heartbroken. Lockhart, anxious about his yet-to-be-formed Defense Against the Dark Arts club, glanced listlessly at the young wizards below.

Trelawney, sitting on the edge, poured herself another glass of sherry and downed it in one gulp.

Why didn't anyone persuade her to open a fortune-telling club?

Don't any little wizards like fortune telling?

Prophecy is an indispensable part of magic!

Gulp, gulp, gulp, the liquor hurts my heart as it goes down my throat.

Over the next two days, the invitation from the Potions Club sparked widespread discussion among the young wizards.

Potions are a popular profession, and some young wizards dream of joining the Potions Club to learn the skills of brewing potions and become respectable apothecaries after graduation. Now, their hopes are dashed; only a select few students who received invitations—invitations sent directly by Snape—will be able to join the club.

Many junior wizards harbor resentment towards this opaque and secretive selection process.

What are the criteria for issuing invitations? Is there a limit to the number of invitations? Why can't we apply proactively?

"We must oppose this unfair selection process! We must oppose any shady dealings!"

Two red-haired students from Ravenclaw, who wished to remain anonymous, stoked the road.

George and Fred had not received any invitations, nor did they intend to join the Potions Club; they were just saying these things to watch the spectacle.

In Ron's words, "Just imagine, this is going to be a spectacle for the old bat, that's something to look forward to!"

The witty remarks from the people stirring things up caused some ripples.

One day, several students gathered together and blocked the entrance to the auditorium, their expressions solemn, like warriors about to be burned at the stake for fairness and freedom.

A group of more young wizards gathered around to watch the spectacle. George and Fred were among the crowd, their eyes sparkling as they looked at the people, their faces filled with anticipation for something to happen.

This is the scene that Loren and his group saw after class. Ron immediately spotted his two older brothers, his eyes lit up, and he pushed his way through the crowd, only to quickly squeeze out again.

Ron excitedly relayed what he knew: "They're going to question Snape here and protest against him!"

Seamus and Dean immediately perked up: "Cool!"

Loren and the others didn't want to leave either; even though they were hungry, they wanted to stay outside the auditorium and watch the excitement.

Soon, Snape, dressed in a green robe, approached expressionlessly, and the young wizards in the corridor instantly fell silent. Snape walked with a brisk pace, his long, flowing robes fluttering in the wind. As he passed the young wizards who were about to protest, he gave them a sharp look.

The warriors, who were prepared to die, suddenly became afraid to die, turning into quails and not daring to utter a sound. They allowed Snape to enter the Great Hall without any trouble.

The group of onlookers couldn't help but chuckle. They had prepared for this moment, but it was too funny to be startled by Snape's single glance.

The farce was just a farce; it didn't cause any ripples in the busy school.

As the Potions Club event drew closer, Loren was dragged to Snape's office the day before the event to do some preparations.

Take the herbs out of the storage box, untie the binding ropes, and pack them into boxes. This kind of mechanical work isn't tiring, just a bit tedious.

The bundled herbs were thrown into the box, the knots were untied and the ropes pulled out, and then the next bundle was made.

Loren rubbed the dried grass leaves together and recognized the herb by observing the veins on the leaves.

He turned his head to look at Snape: "Rut? That common herb is used to make rue extract, isn't it? What are you planning to use it for?"

Rue extract is a mild tonic often used for people who are weak, to give them warmth and strength, much like glucose.

However, the preparation process is very troublesome. You have to pick the two leaves that are in the middle of the rootstock, use the rest of the leaves to extract the juice, and then boil the leaves in the juice extracted from the rue.

These are basic, commonly used potions, and because they are time-consuming and labor-intensive, they can be sold for a higher price.

Snape, who was writing at his desk, looked up: "For tomorrow's club activities, the second-year students will be responsible for picking the grass leaves, the third-year students will be responsible for extracting the juice from the grass, and the upperclassmen will be responsible for brewing rue extract."

Loren looked up in surprise: "These tasks are way too easy!"

What he really meant was that it was boring and tedious.

These tasks are for newly enrolled wizards; after a few demonstrations, they can learn and master them. Those who received invitations were all students with excellent potion-making skills; using them for these tasks is a waste of their talents, like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

"Ruby essence is easy to prepare, but it's a bit pricey, making it the perfect potion for your first sale."

Seeing Loren's stunned expression, Snape explained, "For Hogwarts to completely break free from the control of the Board of Governors, it needs its own funds and income. This is just how we'll start initially; we won't need your help later."

"But... but... I thought the Potions Club was for researching elixirs of resurrection."

"I have my own arrangements regarding the elixir of life."

……

The basement, the Potions classroom.

The Potions Club's first event took place here, in their familiar potion-brewing classroom. No candles were lit; dim light streamed in from the skylight, preventing the dimly lit underground classroom from falling into complete darkness.

The young wizards below the stage gathered in a group, listening quietly to Professor Snape's speech, just like in their first class when Professor Snape said something similar.

Loren, Hermione, Harry, Rolf, and Draco sat in the front, not daring to make a sound.

Snape's figure was completely hidden in the darkness, and only his occasional movements revealed some outlines.

"I said a long time ago that, personally, I don't expect any of you to be able to grasp the techniques and mysteries of potion-making."

"Some mediocre people think I'm arbitrary and that the way I send out invitations isn't objective enough. But believe me, there's only one reason they didn't receive an invitation: they lack a bit of talent in potions. Of course, perhaps they just didn't demonstrate that talent in front of me." Snape spoke slowly, his words laced with sarcasm.

The familiar speaking style reminded Harry of his first Potions class, and a sense of foreboding washed over him. Looking around and comparing himself to the others, Harry realized he, too, lacked a talent for potions.

Snape paced back and forth on the platform, his shadow growing longer and longer: "Most of you here just follow the textbook step by step, mechanically adding herbs, holding the textbook in one hand and stirring the cauldron with the other."

Suddenly, a certain unknown know-it-all felt that she was being targeted.

"As for those who want to make a living by potions—" Snape chuckled, "I hope you don't give up on that naive idea."

He gently flicked his wand upwards, and lights shone from the candlesticks on both walls, illuminating the dark underground potions classroom.

The young wizards then noticed that there were boxes of rue in front of the podium.

Snape assigned tasks to the young wizards of each year, demonstrated the process of making rue essence, and then left.

"They've left?"

The older young wizards were somewhat dumbfounded.

They thought they could learn some advanced potion-making knowledge at the Potions Club, but it turned out to be low-level rue essence? Now Snape has just left, and they can't accept it for a while.

Loren glanced around and saw that, in addition to familiar faces like Rolf and Draco, another second-year student, Michael Corner, had also received an invitation.

Cornelius is a wizard from Ravenclaw, with long black hair covering most of his head and a bewildered look in his eyes. He also doesn't understand Professor Snape's actions.

Loren extended his hand to him: "Let me introduce myself, I'm Loren Morgan."

Corner snapped out of his daze and quickly shook hands, replying, "Hello, Michael Corner, Ravenclaw."

Harry, Hermione, Rolf, and Draco introduced themselves to each other. At Loren's direction, the group began picking rue leaves. Led by them, the other young wizards from different grades took their places in the work.

Second-graders picked the grass leaves, third-graders extracted the grass juice, and the remaining older wizards boiled rue essence around the cauldron.

"The seven hundredth blade of grass, the seven hundred and first blade of grass, the seven hundred..." Harry counted, then suddenly became agitated and angrily said, "What kind of Potions Club is this? That old bat is just here to torture us. What can we learn from this?"

Draco glanced at him sideways, a sarcastic remark on his lips, but then suddenly remembered something, stopped himself from speaking, chuckled, and buried his head in picking leaves again.

Rolf showed no impatience, even appearing somewhat relaxed: "Some upperclassmen want to make potions a career choice, and Professor Snape's current arrangements are to dissuade them from that idea."

These words drew the attention of the people around them. Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding. Cornelius and Draco looked at Rolf with confusion.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"If they make potions as a profession, their work is just like what they are doing now. They keep refining the same potions. As apprentices, they can only keep repeating one step of the process, just like they are now."

As Rolf spoke, he didn't slow down his work: "If they can't even stand it now, how can they make potion-making their lifelong profession? They don't like making potions; they just like the prestige of being a potion master."

Several people turned to look at the senior students in charge of the work behind them. Some were sitting comfortably in their seats doing their own things, while others were already restless and couldn't sit still, shifting their limbs and looking around.

Loren clicked his tongue, somewhat puzzled.

Did Snape have this other intention?

Why does he feel that this is exploiting their labor?

……

Before we knew it, October had arrived.

The spell-practicing craze sparked by Professor Flitwick subsided considerably, mainly due to the drop in temperature. The damp chill lingered in the wind, and the young wizards practicing spells by the Black Lake caught colds one after another, even infecting the people in the castle. This kept the school nurse, Ms. Pomfrey, quite busy.

Little wizards with white smoke coming out of their ears often run around in the corridor. That's a side effect of using a stimulant to treat colds; people who drink this potion will have smoke coming out of their ears for several hours.

The rain, as dense as bullets, pounded against the castle, against the windows, against the Forbidden Forest, against everything before them. This rain had been falling for days; a misty fog rose from the wilderness, enveloping the mountains and the Forbidden Forest.

On the steps of the courtyard on the first floor, the young wizards sat listening to the rain, chatting, and playing.

"How's your spell practice going?" Seamus poked Neville's Rafer, who jumped up with each poke. Rafer was in a good mood in the humid weather.

"I've become much more proficient, but nothing else seems to have changed. I don't even want to practice anymore," Dean said. Most young wizards felt the same way; it was already quite a long time since they'd maintained their initial enthusiasm.

"I heard that the senior wizards in the Charms Club are studying ancient magic. I really want to know how powerful the ancient Explosion Charm is?" Seamus said enviously, as he hadn't yet learned the Explosion Charm.

Hermione, upon hearing about ancient magic, also showed a longing expression. She whispered to Loren, "We shouldn't have refused Professor Flitwick back then; then we could have learned ancient magic too."

The results of the Transfiguration Club exams she was waiting for hadn't been released yet, let alone any activities. The little witch even harbored a slight resentment towards Professor McGonagall, grumbling about it to Loren from time to time.

"Then why don't you go talk to Professor Flitwick again? He certainly won't refuse you," Loren said with a smile.

Hermione fell silent. Although she harbored a slight resentment towards Professor McGonagall, Professor McGonagall was still her favorite professor.

"Hey, George gave me something good!" Ron ran over excitedly, showing off a bottle of potion. "A stimulant that makes your ears smoke like a train!"

Ever since everyone thought that having smoke coming out of one's ears was cool, the energy drinks in the school clinic suffered. At first, people pretended to be sick to get the energy drinks, but then someone actually deliberately got caught in the rain and caught a cold just to get them. Ms. Pomfrey was furious, and the energy drinks never left the school clinic again.

Feeling everyone's gaze upon him, Ron gulped down the potion, eagerly awaiting its effects.

His ears were unresponsive, and black stripes appeared on his skin, one black and one white, like a zebra.

Loud laughter erupted from the crowd.

Harry, Loren, and Hermione turned their heads away, unable to bear looking at him, and didn't laugh out loud, but their shoulders were shaking violently.

Ron's skin changed from black and white to an angry blackish-red, and he yelled "Yaaaaa!" as he went to find George and Fred to take them down with him.

"Looks like he's forgotten that he can't eat anything that George or Fred has," Harry laughed.

(End of this chapter)