Chapter 15 Potions Class
"Blood fetus?"
Meka Anders murmured when he saw this strange thing. He looked at the middle-aged man buried in the book and showed a look of regret.
Philthorpe is indeed a talent.
The obsession he left behind is no longer young. In order to make up for the regret since childhood, he spent decades and finally created a magic derived from transfiguration.
You know, most of the innovations in magic are recorded and admired. It requires not only time and effort, but more importantly, talent.
And Philthorpe obviously has these three indispensable conditions.
"What is your wish?"
Meka walked in front of Philthorpe and sighed: "Do you want to see your family? But your current situation is not optimistic. I think even if I can see them, you can't see what they look like."
Meka's words seemed to cause some changes in the air.
A golden ripple spread out, and Philthorpe, who was buried in the book, raised his dead face. There seemed to be a light flashing in his lifeless eyes, and he became much more lively.
He blinked slowly, looked around, and seemed to have just noticed the people in front of him. After a moment of silence, he replied:
"I want to know how they are doing?"
"I want to see what they look like now, even if they are in the photos."
Meka couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief after hearing this:
"I understand."
"Do you remember their address?"
"In the book." Philthorpe said: "It's a book, and also my diary."
When he said this, the spirit in his eyes seemed to have exhausted energy, and he suddenly looked sad:
"Clacy."
"My sister, I wish you well."
Meka looked at Philthorpe's lifeless appearance again, and was infected by his emotions. He couldn't help but sigh: "What a miserable person."
He looked at it for a while and stood up.
"It's time to go back." Meka looked up at the sky.
A storm swept across the sky, filling the field of vision.
The whole person was caught in it and completely lost consciousness.
...
"Finally found it."
In the dormitory, Meka Anders smiled.
Two hours later, he finally found the description of the Philthorpe family in the "Autobiography of a Vampire" in his hand.
The book reads:
"It's a wooden house at the foot of the mountain."
"Open the door and look toward the mountain, and you can see wild flowers all over the mountain, in all colors."
"Clacy said that she likes the pink one because it has a sweet fragrance, like candy."
Meka read a few more lines down, and Philthorpe wrote a line of words as small as a mosquito in the gap between the books.
"No one knows that the hut with No. 7 Winter Hill written on the door will become the home that the vampire boy will never return to."
"No. 7 Winter Hill." Meka repeated the address, feeling that the address was a bit vague, and couldn't help frowning:
"Winter Hill should be the address in the magic world, right?"
"I wonder if the letter can be sent there?"
But he soon felt relieved.
After so many years, it's hard to say whether the Philthorpe family is still there. If you really think about it, there are problems everywhere. It's better to send a letter first and try your luck.
But of course you need a messenger to send a letter.
When Meka thought of this, he looked at the window beside Harry's bed. A white owl flapped its wings and flew away. He couldn't help but smile.
"You can borrow this owl from Harry later when you send a letter."
"What a pity, why didn't I think of buying one as a pet at the beginning? But I heard that Harry's owl is really expensive, maybe I can't bear to buy it."
Dong.
The clock in the dormitory rang.
Meka looked at the time.
"It's getting late, it's time to go to class."
He yawned, got up from his chair, stretched, packed up and went to the potion classroom.
...
The potion classroom was like a church, with light falling from the high windowsill, like holy light.
There was a wide and long table in front of the podium.
There were bottles and jars on it, which was the workbench used by the potion professor to make potions.
The students' desks also displayed a set of potion tools they had bought for learning.
Meka Anders fiddled with the beaker on the table idly, something that was very unfamiliar to the other little wizards, but it was familiar to him.
These tools for making potions seemed to be no different from ordinary glass products, but there was a big difference between them.
Just like the difference between a broom in the real world and a flying broom in the magic world,
the tools and vessels for making potions are made with a special alchemical technique, which makes them more compatible with magic and can resonate with the magic of the wizard.
This resonance can make the various materials in the vessel merge together in a magical way, and the medicinal power and properties can be exerted to a just right degree.
This resonance technique cannot be learned by any skills or methodology, just like drinking water, it is almost a subconscious behavior. If you want to learn it, you either have a good natural talent or you have to work hard to cultivate it.
And Meka Anders obviously inherited the results of decades of hard work of old man Domon.
Following the instructions in the book, he poured a little distilled water into the cup, added the ingredients such as bean root, grass chips, melting powder, etc. in sequence, stirred gently, and shook.
This is obviously the simplest action, but even from the perspective of Hermione on the side, one can still see a calmness and elegance, like a piano artist playing a great work.
Hermione watched his movements and blinked in surprise.
Then she frowned, as if she didn't understand why she had such a strange idea, she just thought this action was a bit pretty.
The cup in Meka Anders' hand was still shaking.
The light silver solution seemed to have fluorescent dots, floating on the water, appearing and disappearing. His eyes looked at the cup in his hand, and he seemed to feel a magical power flowing between the palm of his hand and the beaker.
Meka is refining a potion to treat boils. This is the simplest potion that even a layman can make after receiving certain guidance. Therefore, it serves as an introduction to potions.
He was about to pour the solution into the crucible and put it on an alcohol lamp for heating, when suddenly the door of the classroom behind him opened with a bang.
A figure rushed in.
He was wearing a long black robe and his eyes were cold and deep.
His pale face seemed like a piece of ice that could not be melted, and his whole body revealed the feeling of not being able to approach strangers.
This is Hogwarts Potions Professor, Severus Snape.
Meka watched Professor Snape walk in, looking a little dazed, but decades of habits in his memory made him keep shaking the beaker as if naturally.
Professor Snape just walked by and suddenly felt strange.
"Um?"
He looked back and paused, looking at Meka's hands for a while, and then looked at Meka's face.
There was no emotion on his face, but he stood there for more than ten seconds, leaving the young wizards confused as to what the professor was up to.
Meka also noticed Snape's gaze, raised her head and looked into his eyes, and received a nod from Professor Snape.
Although this movement was subtle, it still surprised Meka Anders.
"Can he see it in just a moment?"
Meka thought.
But there was no answer to his question.
Professor Snape walked to the podium as if nothing had happened.
He casually glanced at the students under him and said:
"Potions is a subject in which only the very best can achieve anything."
"I don't expect you to learn much, but don't use your wand in my class."
Professor Snape's eyes swept over some students who were about to move without leaving any trace.
These students who were taking chances felt like they were electrocuted and hurriedly put away the wands in their hands. They finally knew that the professor's harsh reputation at Hogwarts was obviously not groundless.
Snape slowly withdrew his gaze and continued:
"The Potions class is where all the magic begins."
"Here, I will teach you how to refine sore medicine, water of life and death, shrinking potion, and compound potion..."
"You have heard, or have not heard, that all magical potions that can control the mind and blind the five senses can be born under the hands of a potion master."
"I will also teach you how to store fame and create glory."
"Oh." Professor Snape paused:
"I can also teach you how to make a potion that will make you immortal."
This sentence was like cold water thrown into a frying pan, which suddenly aroused the passionate emotions of the little wizards.
Harry was writing something down with a note, unconscious.
Ron glanced at Harry and whispered: "Although it sounds exciting, he really doesn't look like a good person."
But Harry was in a trance when writing, and you couldn't hear anything.
Ron could only curl his lips and lean towards Meka on the other side. He lowered his voice again, trying to say something.
Meka Anders smiled at Ron and saw Professor Snape's eyes turning around.
Ron shut his mouth immediately, not daring to speak anymore.
Professor Snape looked at Harry aside, and his expression suddenly turned colder:
“I’ve seen so many people with great reputations, but even people with great reputations listen to others.”
"Those who only rely on their past achievements, become complacent and never listen to what others say, are usually fools."
"Not to mention, some people are worse than them, but they have such a great reputation."
Meka glanced at Professor Snape on the stage. Harry, who was lost in the audience, showed an interesting expression.
…
Potions class ended and Meka walked out of the classroom.
Harry followed out somewhat glumly:
"I don't understand why he targeted me. What I wrote was nothing else but what he said in class."
Meka just raised his head to check the weather, and an owl happened to fly in the sky, which reminded him of the letter he sent.
He smiled, patted Harry on the shoulder and said:
"Don't worry, Harry, it might just be a misunderstanding. Just let it go next time."
He pointed to the owl in the sky: "Harry, I remember you also have an owl?"
"Yeah." Harry said absently, "There is one."
Meka asked: "I want to borrow it from you to send a letter, is that okay?"
…
…
