Chapter 1195: Still the original recipe, still the familiar taste

On the first day of school, the fifth-year Gryffindor students will have to face Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and Umbridge one after another.

Soon after the little lions arrived at the auditorium, hundreds of owls flew in from the high windows.

They brought not only letters and parcels, but also drops of water, obviously it was raining heavily outside.

The Daily Prophet reported the latest progress in the capture of Vincent as usual.

"According to reliable information, Wayne has appeared in the Hong Kong wizarding community. The head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour, will personally lead a team to Hong Kong tomorrow..."

Hermione closed the newspaper, picked up the cup and took a big sip of milk in a good mood.

Judging from the progress of the British wizarding world, it is estimated that by next year no one will know that Vincent has actually been staying in the UK.

After breakfast, the listless little lions came to the largest classroom on the second floor.

History of Magic has always been recognized as the most boring course in the wizarding world.

Professor Binns always spoke with a wheezing and drawling voice that could make people drowsy within ten minutes.

If it's a hot day, maybe five minutes is enough.

His lecture format was unchanging, he always read from the textbook incessantly, while the students took notes, or more accurately, stared blankly in a daze with sleepy eyes.

"Today, we are going to talk about the Giant War..."

One minute passed, two minutes passed, and half of three minutes passed before Ron finally couldn't hold on any longer.

No, he is a prefect now and must concentrate!

Another two minutes passed before Ron completely surrendered.

Except for Hermione, who was in a particularly good mood today, no one could resist the hypnotic power hidden in Binns' voice.

After an agonizing hour and a half, Binns floated away across the blackboard, but the little lions were still in low spirits.

Because next up is the old Gryffindor tradition, two consecutive Potions classes.

The dungeon was still as damp and dark as ever. The moment the classroom door was pushed open, an eerie creaking sound echoed throughout the dungeon.

Snape, who was still like a ghost, suddenly "floated" in. He said "Quiet" coldly and closed the classroom door with his backhand.

"Before we begin the class..." Snape walked quickly to the podium and looked sternly at the students below, "I think it's necessary to remind you that you will take an important exam in June next year, and at that time, you will have to prove how much you have learned about the preparation and use of potions."

He glanced coldly at Neville, who was shrinking his neck. "Although there are indeed some people in this class who are very slow in intelligence, I hope that you can all barely 'pass' the oO.WLs exam. Otherwise, I will be very angry."

Neville gasped, not daring to look up to meet those narrow, dark eyes.

Snape looked away. "Of course, after this year, many of you will no longer be able to attend my classes."

The little lions were all faintly excited, including Neville who was looking timidly towards the podium.

"I only select the best students for my NEWTs Potions class, which means some people will finally have to say goodbye."

Snape pouted slightly, his eyes fixed on Harry's face.

But unlike usual, Harry glared back without showing any weakness.

"But before that happy moment of farewell comes, we still have to hold on for another year."

Snape's voice became particularly soft. "Therefore, whether or not you plan to take the NEWTs, I advise you all to concentrate on studying hard and achieve the high passing level that I require of OWLs."

He glanced at the first row again, but his eyes were not on Neville, but on the empty seat next to him.

He quickly averted his gaze. "Today, we are going to prepare a potion that often appears in Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations. It is a soothing potion that can calm and soothe irritable and anxious emotions."

His eyes turned cold again, and Simo, who was stared at, felt his scalp tingling.

"Be careful. If you are careless when adding the ingredients, the person taking the drug will fall into an irreversible coma, or even suffer an explosion as terrible as the blasting curse."

Seamus's face flushed. It was just that he accidentally exploded a crucible in the first grade. Why did he have to think about it for so many years?

"Believe me, if anything happens, I will kick him out of the classroom immediately."

Dean, who was next to Seamus, was trying to hold back his laughter so hard that his face turned red. If it weren't for Snape's cold glare, he would have laughed so hard that he would have overturned the ceiling of the dungeon.

"The ingredients and recipe—" Snape waved his wand, "are on the blackboard."

Lines of operating instructions instantly appeared on the blackboard. He waved his wand again, "All the materials are in the storage cabinet."

The cupboard door opened and he glanced at Hermione on the other side of the first row, "You have an hour and a half, get started."

The palliative agent is very difficult and has many steps.

It must be prepared in a strict order and according to the correct amount, and stirred a specified number of times, neither more nor less, first clockwise and then counterclockwise.

The temperature of the flame when the crucible is boiling must also drop to a certain range, neither too high nor too low, and be maintained for a specific period of time before the last material can be added.

At the 10-minute countdown, Snape's cold voice sounded again: "Your potion should now emit a faint, silvery-white steam."

Harry, sweating profusely from his busy work, glanced around the classroom in despair. His own cauldron was emitting clouds of grey gas, Ron's cauldron was spitting out green sparks, Seamus was frantically poking the dying flame under his cauldron with the tip of his wand, and Neville's potion was as hard as freshly mixed cement.

After a circle, only Hermione's potion emitted a faintly flickering silver-white steam.

As Snape walked quickly past, his dark eyes on his hooked nose glanced down at Hermione's cauldron.

He made no comment, which meant he couldn't find any fault.

But soon he came to Harry's cauldron, with a terrible sneer on his face, "Potter, what is this?"

As usual, the Slytherin snakes looked up with considerable interest.

Harry was very nervous. "Palliant."

"Potter, tell me," Snape whispered, leaning closer to him and looking directly into the beautiful emerald eyes behind his glasses, "can you read?"

If it were in the past, Draco would definitely be the one laughing the loudest with a mocking look on his face, but now he just looked down intently at the potion in the crucible in front of him, without any expression at all about his mortal enemy's embarrassing behavior.

"Yes." Harry clenched his wand. "Professor, I can read."

Snape straightened up slightly. "Read me the third line of the instructions, Potter."

The classroom was filled with steam of various colors. Harry squinted his eyes and was able to barely follow the instructions on the blackboard.

"Add moonstone powder, stir counterclockwise three times, boil for seven minutes, and add two drops of hellebore syrup..."

Harry's heart sank so much that he forgot to add the hellebore syrup and went straight to the fourth instruction after the potion had boiled for seven minutes.

Snape's cold voice seemed to ring in his ears: "Have you done everything in the third point, Potter?"

"No." Harry's voice was so soft that it was almost inaudible.

"I didn't hear you clearly, please say it again."

"No," Harry shouted back. "I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you've forgotten, Potter." Snape drew his wand and tapped the cauldron. "This means this cauldron of garbage is useless and has vanished without a trace."

The potion, emitting clouds of gray gas, disappeared, and Harry stared blankly at the empty crucible in front of him.

"Those of you who have carefully read the instructions will place your sample of the drug into a short-necked bottle, carefully label it with your name, and bring it to my podium for testing."

Snape turned back to the podium. "Assignment: Write a twelve-inch paper on parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in medicine. Due Thursday."

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