HP: Azkaban's Outstanding Graduate

"……sorry."

He said in a muffled voice, his gaze fixed on the shifting stone bricks beneath his feet, "I just... feel a little uncomfortable."

“We know.” Ron patted him on the shoulder, his tone softening.

After walking in silence for a while, Hermione softly brought up another topic that had been on their minds: "I went to the library again last night to look up... about time magic."

Her voice carried a hint of helplessness, "But just like before, the relevant records are either vague or merely theoretical conjectures. Truly advanced time magic is simply beyond our current level of understanding. Unless we can access the forbidden book section..."

"No, I'll be fired if that woman catches me!"

Harry and Ron quickly stopped her from continuing, "If Umbridge finds out, we're doomed, absolutely not!"

"Ugh……"

Hermione finally gave up, her tone becoming slightly trembling, "I really don't know why Professor Dumbledore agreed to let that woman into Hogwarts, and even let her teach two subjects at the same time."

"Don't mention her, I haven't even eaten yet, but I haven't thrown up!"

He then changed the subject, "Do you think Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid might have gone to see Professor Greengrass?"

“It’s possible, but not very likely…” Harry thought for a moment and said, “And I think they might be investigating something else.”

"What is it?" Ron asked curiously.

“Weren’t there rumors a while ago that there was a large-scale breakout from Azkaban?” Harry said. “I heard from Sirius that someone breached the anti-magic walls of Azkaban from the outside.”

"But didn't the Ministry of Magic say that was all just a rumor?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"You'd rather trust the Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione asked expressionlessly, "Or do you think they'll tell the truth?"

"Yup!"

Ron slapped his forehead. "If they say no, then it must be true."

“If Professor Greengrass were here…” Harry said again.

Ron and Hermione couldn't help but sigh when they heard this.

They never gave up searching for Professor Greengrass's whereabouts in private, but time magic is one of the most mysterious and dangerous branches of magic, and related knowledge is strictly controlled.

With their limited abilities and resources as fifth-grade students, they simply didn't know where to begin.

The three walked silently toward Professor Binns' dull and tedious history of magic class, their minds heavy with a lot of things to do.

Professor Binns recounted the War of the Giants in his monotone, hypnotic voice. Harry and Ron struggled to keep their eyelids open, but their minds had already drifted off to who-knows-where.

When the bell finally rang to signal the end of get out of class, the two of them followed Hermione out of the classroom almost numbly.

"What would happen if I didn't lend you my notebook this year?" Hermione asked coldly, looking at the two of them who looked like they had just woken up.

"Then our History of Magic O.W.Ls will fail."

Ron said matter-of-factly, "At the same time, your conscience would be troubled, and you wouldn't do that, would you?"

“That’s what you deserve,” Hermione retorted sharply. “You weren’t paying attention in Professor Binns’ class at all, were you?”

“Of course we were listening,” Ron said. “We just don’t have your brain, your memory, your attention. You’re just smarter than us, that’s obvious.”

“Don’t try to sweet-talk me,” Hermione said, but her expression softened slightly as she led the way into the damp yard.

"Hurry up."

She urged her sternly, checking her timetable, "We only have ten minutes to get to the underground classroom. Snape will not tolerate being late!"

The three of them jogged down the stairs and arrived at the Potions classroom, which was filled with a strange smell.

The students settled into their seats, and Snape, like a giant bat, silently slid into the classroom. Everyone wisely kept quiet.

"Quiet."

His words instantly made the already quiet classroom even more deathly silent.

"Today we'll learn about palliative medications."

Snape wasted no time on pleasantries and went straight to the point.

“The recipe and steps,” he tapped the blackboard with his wand, and suddenly a dense mass of writing appeared on it, “on the blackboard.”

“The materials you need,” he said, waving his wand again, and a cabinet door opened automatically. “are in the cabinet.”

Snape's words were succinct and his voice as cold as the wind: "I don't want to see anyone... ruin them."

His gaze swept meaningfully across the class, finally lingering on Harry for a moment.

"What are you waiting for? Do you need me to light the fire for you myself?"

A flurry of activity immediately filled the classroom.

Harry tried to concentrate and began brewing the potion according to the steps, but Snape's presence felt like a cold stone pressing on his heart.

He carefully weighed the moonstone powder, added it to the crucible, and stirred it clockwise...

However, disaster struck an hour later.

Like a shark that has smelled blood, Snape silently approached Harry and Ron's table.

“Ten minutes from now, your potion should be emitting a silvery-white vapor,” Snape said.

He looked down at Harry's pot of potion, which was emitting an odd, pale blue steam, and a cold smile crept onto his lips.

“Potter,” Snape said, making no attempt to hide his malice, “maybe you can explain to everyone what you’re making?”

Harry stared at his cauldron, his cheeks burning.

“A remedy, Professor,” he said in a low voice.

"is it?"

Snape pretended to sniff it, then feigned disgust. "Judging by the color and smelling the odor, I thought you'd invented a new kind of poison. So tell me, why does your potion have this unusual hue?"

"I...I might have added too much moonstone powder, or the stirring speed was wrong..." Harry tried to explain.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Seamus's cauldron emitting eerie purple smoke, and Neville's potion had solidified into a hard lump, but Snape ignored it.

"possible?"

Snape repeated softly, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "Such precise Potions terminology. Let's review the basics again. What's the first step?"

“Grind the moonstone powder into a fine sand-like consistency and add it to the crucible…” Harry answered, forcing himself to speak.

"Step two."

"Stir clockwise three times, boil for seven minutes..."

“It seems your memory isn’t too bad,” Snape interrupted him, his voice even colder. “Unfortunately, your practical skills seem to have completely let it down, as you spent a whole hour only to produce a pot of garbage.”

Harry pursed his lips.

He knew he had made a mistake, but anger still surged within him.

Ron's cauldron was spewing green sparks, and Crabbe's potion had boiled over, burning holes in the robes of those around him, but Snape ignored all of this and kept his eyes fixed on him.

Suppressing his anger, Harry chose to remain silent.

Snape straightened up triumphantly, facing the class, but his words were clearly directed at Harry: "Just a reminder, everyone, you will be taking the OWLs exams this year. This will be a... selection process."

His gaze swept over Harry again. "For some, this may be the end of their journey in the exquisite subject of Potions. Because those who cannot reach 'excellent' will not be qualified to enter my NEWT Advanced Class. For some, this may not be a bad thing."

He paused, letting the unspoken message—"like you, Potter"—echo clearly in the silent classroom.

"So, enjoy this time, which may be... the last year we spend together in class."

Harry gripped the pestle tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white, before he managed to resist looking up at Snape.

Chapter 412 Solitary Confinement (Part 1)

The frustration from the potions class lasted until lunch break.

The three of them dragged their heavy steps into the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table.

Ron continued to complain about how terrible Monday was, piling food onto his plate.

"The history of magic is so boring, and Potions class is torture... Merlin, just thinking about having to endure two more 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' classes from Umbridge this afternoon makes me feel hopeless."

He wailed and took a big bite of the chicken leg.

Just then, Fred and George appeared on either side of their seats like two happy, bouncy balls.

“Look, George, our poor little brother looks like he needs a little help,” Fred said with a grin.

“Indeed, Fred, look at this pathetic figure ravaged by the timetable.”

George chimed in, then turned mysteriously to Ron, “Hey Ronnie, wanna have some ‘nosebleed nougat’? Just one small piece and I guarantee you’ll have a nosebleed, enough to legitimately skip any class you don’t like—like, oh, like some classes this afternoon?”

As he spoke, he winked at Ron, completely ignoring Hermione's increasingly grim expression.

Ron's eyes lit up for a moment, but then became wary again: "How much?"

"A rock-bottom price! Only two Sikes!"

Fred enthusiastically touts, "This is absolutely the best deal Hogwarts will make all year!"

"Why is it so cheap?" Ron asked suspiciously, knowing his brothers all too well.

George shrugged and said in a lighthearted tone, "Because the matching 'antidote' is still under development, your nose will keep bleeding. But don't worry!"

He quickly added, "We'll include a free blood-regenerating drug to ensure you don't have any major problems due to excessive blood loss... I guess."

Ron imagined himself bleeding profusely and only able to survive with the help of blood-regenerating potions. He swallowed hard, and the longing on his face instantly turned into terror.

"No...no need, thank you," he said dejectedly. "I think I'd better go to class."

“You’ve lost out,” the twins said in unison, then shook their heads with feigned regret and skipped off to find other potential clients.

After lunch, putting down their knives and forks, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to face reality, pack their things, and head to Professor Umbridge's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

The thought of spending the next two hours under that pretentious woman made all three of them walk with heavy steps.

Pushing open the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the first thing that catches the eye is Professor Umbridge's large face plastered with a fake smile.

She was still wearing that unsettling pink cardigan, with that signature red bow at the chest.