Saturday breakfast is a time for variety.
This is indeed true, but unfortunately, not in food. The absence of classes allowed students to walk not in dress-code uniform, but in everyday clothes, although some neglected this opportunity, continuing to wear the uniform. But what is important—on such students the uniform sat perfectly and was always neat and clean.
"…tor. Hector!"
"Huh? Yes, Justin, my name is Hector, I know, thank you."
"Tsk…" he shook his head, thoughtfully twirling a fork with a sausage. "Why are you so excitedly thoughtful? Waiting for a package?"
"Yes."
"Clear why you keep glancing towards the owl windows."
At that very moment, about a dozen owls flew into the Great Hall, carrying various letters and packages in their paws. One of the owls headed towards our table, and a moment later landed neatly opposite me.
"There, waited for it," Justin nodded in its direction.
The owl extended a paw with a letter, and on the other paw I noticed a small pouch. Checking the letter and finding no traces of either magic or any more trivial harmful substances, I took the letter in my hands and opened it. From the apothecary. The package is in a bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm, shrunk by charms. The sum is thirty-something Galleons plus delivery—thirty-one Galleons.
Taking the backpack off my shoulder, I opened it and laid out the required amount on the table. Only at the sight of money did the owl offer the paw with the pouch, allowing me to take out a small bundle, the size of a matchbox, instead of which I had to put the money there—which I did.
"Hoot…" the owl hooted.
The bird impudently and quickly swiped a sausage from the common plate, and sideways, waddling, moved away to the freest space. Flapping its wings, it easily took off and quickly left the Great Hall through the window.
"Impudent bird," Justin followed it with his gaze. "We don't have enough sausages ourselves."
Looking at the magically shrunk bundle, I didn't quite understand what to do with it.
"Finite," said Susan sitting nearby, and I looked at her. "The charms need to be removed with Finite."
"And I had a thought to use Engorgio."
"No, Hector," the redhead girl shook her head. "An overlap of the enlargement effect on the reduction effect may occur. Need specifically to cancel. If you doubt that only reducing was applied, then it is desirable to use Finite Reducio, and a wave like this…"
Susan took out her wand and showed a simple movement.
"Reducio is said on the last loop, with acceleration on the stressed syllable."
"Aha…" I took out my wand. "That is, essentially, you lengthen Finite by a loop, and on the loop add Reducio?"
"Precisely," the girl smiled. "Try it."
"Finite Reducio."
Completely repeating the gesture and following the instructions, I removed the reduction charms from the bundle, which literally inflated to its original size, occupying a decent part of the table in front of me.
"Hmm, works. Thank you, Susan."
"Don't mention it."
"Reducio," I returned the charms to place, shrinking the bundle to approximately the same size. Taking a notebook and a pencil out of the backpack, I tore out a sheet and wrote a short note to Daphne. A wave of the wand, a cascade transfiguration formula, and instead of a sheet on the table sits a bird like origami. The bird jumped, chirped, and smoothly flew up. Making a circle above us and attracting a little attention, it smoothly flew towards the alert Slytherins.
I watched the flight, the smooth landing, and how the bird turned into a note in Daphne's hands. Five seconds, and the note was read and understood. The girl found me with her gaze and nodded.
"How curious…" Susan drawled. "What an interesting story…"
"Want me to kill all the romance of the intrigue?"
"Try."
"In the bundle are ingredients for potions. We have classes with Snape."
"Oh, even so," Susan became feignedly enthusiastic, as did Hannah sitting next to her. "Just you, her, and…"
"And Snape," I finished instead of Susan.
"Killed, indeed," the girls lost all enthusiasm.
While we were talking, the same bird flew to me and turned into a note. Besides my text, there was a new line: "After dinner at the Potions classroom."
"Well, that's it."
"And what do you plan to do until that time?"
"What do you mean 'what', Susan? Practice magic. The Patronus, for instance, at least."
"That's true," Susan and Hannah looked at each other. "Need to learn it before the trip to Hogsmeade. Otherwise, it will be completely ruined, I'm sure."
The girls showed amazing organizational skills, gathering everyone together in five minutes and reshaping the guys' plans in their own way. In the end, we sat in the same abandoned auditorium until lunch, practicing various spells, but focusing on the Patronus. Of course, we had various textbooks, and snacks, and juice, and the girls brought magazines which they discussed during the break. In general, not bad, routine—the guys were waiting for clubs and circles to finally open. It is to be expected that with the start of various circles and clubs, we will spend less time on such activities.
After lunch, we went to the inner courtyard to simply suffer from idleness in one of the gazebos. True, the others suffered from nonsense, cheerfully discussing all sorts of rubbish, and I sat and practiced the Patronus. Well, how "practiced"—tried to perform the spell "honestly," but quickly switched to simulating positive emotions. Gradually, slowly, little by little increasing their power. The guys sometimes issued something like: "Hard worker, don't overwork," but I only smiled back.
When it was almost time to go to dinner, a thin stream of silver-blue smoke began to appear from my wand.
"Merlin's beard!" Ernie immediately shouted. "People, he's getting something!"
"Just a lot of work and sorting through memories," I smiled tiredly, being fully satisfied with such success.
Well, and after dinner I went to the Potions classroom. The doors were open, and inside, at his desk, sat Professor Snape, literally buried in scrolls with homework.
Knocking on the open door, I looked inside.
"Permission to enter, Professor?"
"Come in, sit down," not looking at me, Snape pointed with his hand to the table closest to him. Only now did I notice Daphne sitting at it, in front of whom all the necessary inventory was laid out, and next to the burner stood an empty cauldron on a stand.
Entered, sat down.
"Greengrass."
"Granger."
"How lovely," Snape sneered, crossing out someone's work with a sweeping movement. "Ingredients?"
I took out and showed the shrunk package on my palm. With one movement Snape made the package fly to the floor in front of him, and with the second movement of the wand dispelled the reduction charms. Not particularly peering, not checking, with the third movement he opened one of the packages and levitated two sets of various ingredients to our table. With another wave of the wand, Snape made a recipe appear on the board.
"Cure for Boils, proceed, recipe on the board," the Professor got up from his desk and went towards the storeroom, levitating the remaining ingredients behind him.
Glancing at Daphne, who was already bossing around on the table with might and main, arranging bowls with ingredients in an order known only to her and carefully reading the recipe from the textbook, I couldn't help but draw her attention to the fact repeated once again.
"The recipe on the board is a little different, again. Are the textbooks that bad?" I whispered quietly, attracting attention.
Daphne looked calmly at me, at the board, thought for a couple of moments, and finally closed the textbook, putting it aside on the far corner.
"As always," she nodded shortly to her own thoughts.
"Let me take care of the fangs, I have experience in this, and…" I glanced at the Horned Slugs. Alive. "It seems I have a couple of questions for the Professor."
The Professor had already returned by this moment and safely continued checking works, now and then slightly grimacing at the sight of another textual amateur performance authored by students.
"Professor Snape."
Snape looked up at me.
"Yes, Mr. Granger?"
"Professor," I stood up. "Regarding Horned Slugs. In a moment of danger, they secrete a special neurotoxin and if compatibility tables of ingredients are to be believed, then in contact with porcupine quills it can cause a hyperthermic reaction. Should the potion be removed from the fire and due to this reaction it will reach readiness, or should the slug's body be divided in the sagittal plane with a silver knife?"
The Professor looked at me intently, tapping his finger on the table.
"And what will sagittal division of the slug give you, especially with a silver knife?" he asked with a slight malice in his voice.
"It will kill the slug in such a way that it will not sense danger and will not produce neurotoxin. At the same time, other organs important for the potion will remain undamaged due to the slug's body structure being paired symmetrical in this plane."
The Professor nodded.
"The answer to your question is quite simple, Mr. Granger. Correct cutting of slugs requires experience that very few can boast of. Therefore, whole and live Horned Slugs should be used, and the potion removed from the fire before using porcupine quills."
"Thank you, sir," I nodded and was ready to sit down.
"And the need to remove the potion from the fire is stated in the instructions for the potion in the textbook and on the board. Minus a point, Mr. Granger, for inattentive reading of educational literature."
Well, it couldn't be otherwise. On the other hand, this is a purely symbolic "minus point," because if Snape wanted to punish, he would have deducted much more. Look, Potter and company go as far as minus fifteen in one lesson.
"How do you know?" asked Daphne, judging by her face, purely out of politeness.
"I read books, have a good memory. And this is indeed an interesting question not stipulated in the recipe."
"Clear. Will you cut?"
"I can, but now we have one potion for two. If I were brewing my own personal one, I would try, but as it is—no."
Daphne nodded, and we proceeded to brew the potion.
By the end of the allotted time, when it only remained to hold the potion at a certain temperature until readiness, Snape suddenly spoke:
"You use rather specific terminology, Mr. Granger. Intend to go into medicine?"
This question took me by surprise. So far I was only establishing connections, adapting to society, and not at all planning the future. What do I want? What does my personal experience suggest, and the scraps of memories of the shards?
"It seems I again overestimated the intellectual capabilities of the student," the Professor chuckled.
The most interesting and varied was the life of the elf. But from these memories, it is clear that it was such not at all because it belonged to an elf—some of them have not a life, but a swamp and boredom. The reason is different. The reason that forced him to travel, learn the world, end up in a variety of situations and scrapes, about which only mentions remained in memory, but remained nonetheless.
"Healer, Professor."
Snape arched an eyebrow in surprise.
"Healer?"
"Yes, sir. But first I need to become a good Hogwarts student and successfully complete this path."
"Well. Given your past, such an aspiration is quite understandable. But this is a very difficult path. Perhaps you should pay attention to the Auror specialty? Or a clerk in the Ministry?" Snape smirked much more obviously than ever before. "Hufflepuff students succeed very well at being clerks."
"If it comes as easily to them as teaching comes to Slytherin students, then I, perhaps, begin to worry about the efficiency of our state apparatus."
"Hmm. Not groundlessly, Mr. Granger."
The potion arrived, we removed the cauldron, and Snape checked the quality of the product, peering and sniffing.
"This can even be applied," he noted dryly. "In an extreme case. Dismissed."
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