"….is it true?"
"Yes, it's the flashy first year."
"Damn, He was doing good but why the fuck did he mess up now?"
The next day began with whispers trailing my every step, a consequence of the sudden loss of 90 house points. Despite earning points throughout my time here, the weight of the deductions lingered as an itch for Slytherins, proud and mindful of their reputation.
CRACKLE
CRACKLE
Seeking protection from the chill of the dungeons, I found refuge by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. The room glowed with the warm light of the fire, casting dancing shadows against the backdrop of an enchanting underwater scene depicting the black lake, complete with mermaids gliding by, their haunting melodies adding to the ambience.
THUD
Lost in my reading on Healing magic, I was taken aback when Draco joined me at the table. His presence was unexpected, and I waited silently as he gathered his thoughts before speaking up.
"Sorry, Arjun," Draco began, his tone felt like genuine remorse.
Puzzled by his public apology, I asked him, "Sorry for what?"
After a moment of hesitation, Draco confessed, "I'm sorry for not checking on you when we fled from the Forbidden Corridor. You saved me from the Cerberus, and I owe you for that. Consider me a friend from now on."
His words sparked murmurs throughout the common room as Draco boldly announced our newfound friendship and an encounter with the Cerberus, cleverly steering the conversation away from the deductions and towards our supposed heroics.
Shaking my head in amusement, I replied, "It's alright. Let's head to class."
CLICK
Draco gave a nod at that, with a click of his fingers in his posh style, Crabbe and Goyle came forward to collect my books to carry.
Now, I realise how convenient minions are for the villains in the movies. Then I remembered that I have a rich dad who leaves all things to his employee or driver to carry. Everyone happily takes the role of a porter to leave a good impression on their boss.
No wonder, I mesh well with Draco. We both are rich and assholes.
As we left the common room, I couldn't help but the aftermath of housing a Cerberus within Hogwarts. Because, unlike the canon timeline Draco saw the beast. So, a letter detailing it must be on Lucius's table.
Dumbledore would undoubtedly have to take care of the repercussions of this arrangement. But, I am sure he can do so. After all, the title of greatest wizard alive is not for show.
===Potion's Room, after Classes===
RUB
RUB
As we toiled away scrubbing potion cauldrons under Professor Snape's watchful eye. While Draco himself might not have been directly punished for our adventure, Snape had made it clear that he, along with Crabbe and Goyle, would suffer consequences. Of course, this news will not leave Slytherin House, otherwise, a letter will go the Papa Malfoy.
As we worked, Draco's voice cut through the silence of our task. "I wonder," he mused aloud, "if I can have my dad convince Mr. Newt to meet us. After all, we came close to death facing that Cerberus of his."
I paused in my scrubbing, realizing the ease with which Dumbledore handled the issue. One word from his former student ended it. I can only imagine the sheer influence he holds among all his contacts filled with students, colleagues and friends who passed through these halls.
[ AI Reminder: Newt Scamander, even if one overlooked his magic prowess; was a figure of immense influence in the magical world. As the author of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," he held unparalleled expertise in magical creatures. His mere endorsement could make or break businesses reliant on magical animals, which constituted a significant portion of the wizarding economy.]
The dragon hide gloves I wore as protection for scrubbing the cauldrons are indirectly dependent on the magical creatures industry.
Speaking of Scrubbing, the stains from this particular set are not going no matter what I do. Realizing the users of this set, I sighed in exhaustion at first.
SJGH
As I scrubbed yet another cauldron, frustration bubbling within me, I muttered under my breath, "Bloody Gryffindors." The Gryffindor house seemed to have an uncanny knack for causing trouble in Potions class, and today was no exception.
"Seamus and Neville," I grumbled to myself, "always managing to brew chaos instead of potions." Their constant mishaps were just the tip of the iceberg, with the Weasley twins and their ilk adding to the chaos in the upper years.
The mess left behind by Gryffindor's blunders was a nightmare to clean. The residue from their volatile concoctions clung stubbornly to the cauldrons. Either resisting or exploding in reaction with the cleaning charms.
POOF
PROF
It was as if these stains were mocking my attempts to rub them.
As I worked, a thought crossed my mind. Was Snape internally similarly punishing the Slytherins like Draco? It wouldn't be surprising if he was, considering his strict and unforgiving nature.
Perhaps that explained the animosity between Slytherin and Gryffindor; the former resenting the latter for their reckless behaviour and the consequences it brought upon them. A smelly farting cauldrons to clean in detentions.
I could already envision the scenario playing out in the hallways. An angry Slytherin venting on the culprit responsible for the mess but refusing to divulge the true reason behind their frustration out of pride.
AGH
After an hour of hard work, we finally finished cleaning the cauldrons, "I can't feel my arms anymore," Draco groaned, rubbing his sore muscles.
"Yeah, that was brutal," I agreed, wiping sweat from my brow.
THUD
Just as we were about to catch our breath, Snape swept into the room with his usual air of authority. He flicked his wand, and instructions for brewing the Wiggenweld potion appeared on the board.
"Alright, class," Snape announced, his voice dripping with disdain, "since Mr. Prasad here is already slated for detention with Madam Pomfrey, he can brew the potions and take them along. If you finish in time, you may have the privilege of watching me work on some special Healing potions."
Draco exchanged a look with me, both of us interested in the prospect of witnessing Snape's expertise in potion-making firsthand.
"We will get to the task, Uncle," Draco said eagerly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
I nodded in agreement while massaging my arms.
Snape raised an eyebrow at our enthusiasm, clearly unimpressed by our interest. "Don't get ahead of yourselves," he cautioned, "Brewing the Wiggenweld potion requires precision and concentration. One wrong move, and you could end up with a concoction that's more harmful than healing."
We nodded to agree with the gravity of Snape's warning. Brewing potions was serious business, and we couldn't afford to make any mistakes. Be good boys in potions. I am talking about you stupid Lions.
We want to close the wound, not melt the drinker.
I get you, Snape. It is plain stupid and dangerous to mess around with life-saving processes.
With that, we set to work, following Snape's instructions meticulously.
---------------A hour later-------------------------
It was a challenging task, but with Snape's guidance and our determination, we managed to brew the potions successfully.
As we finished, Snape inspected our work with a critical eye, nodding in approval at the quality of our potions. "Well done," he conceded, a hint of begrudging respect in his tone.
Snape led us to his cauldron, an impressive piece rumoured to have been handcrafted by the Potions Master Berendo himself. With a flourish, he announced his intention to brew "THE HEALING POTION," a powerful elixir that surpassed the effects of the Wiggenweld potion.
"As you can see," Snape began, his voice low and commanding, "this potion is not for minor injuries. It is a step above, capable of healing a wide array of ailments."
He gestured towards the ingredients laid out before us, some common and others rare and precious.
"Wormwood," Snape continued, his tone carrying a hint of reverence, "for clearing infections. Its potent properties make it an essential component of any Healing potion."
"Next, we have Bubotuber pus," Snape explained, his expression turning slightly disdainful, "this foul substance is added at the very end of the potion-making process. It forms a protective layer on the surface, preventing the formation of scars."
"Ah, Dittany," Snape remarked, his tone softening slightly as he picked up the delicate herb, "a remarkable plant known for its ability to promote healing. Its inclusion in this potion ensures rapid recovery for the patient."
"Dragon liver," Snape continued, his voice taking on a note of caution, "a potent ingredient that increases the magical potency of the potion while simultaneously reducing its toxicity. Handle with care."
"And finally," Snape concluded, his gaze lingering on the last ingredient, "unicorn tail hair. A rare and precious substance that calms the magical potency of the Dragon liver, ensuring a balanced and harmonious blend of healing properties. It is the cornerstone of this potion, imbuing it with the purity and strength of the unicorn."
As Snape began to combine the ingredients in his cauldron, the air filled with the rich scents of the various components mingling together. We watched in awe as he worked, his movements were precise and practised, and each step was executed with meticulous care.
"This potion," Snape explained, his voice low and intense, "must be brewed slowly and steadily. The magic of each ingredient must be carefully balanced to achieve the desired effect."
As the potion simmered and bubbled in the cauldron, Snape's explanations continued, each word filled with knowledge and expertise.
As I stood there while my AI copied every step, I can say with surety, Snape is damn good at cooking.