After lunch, we went to the courtyard to just laze around in one of the gazebos. True, the others were wasting their time, happily discussing all sorts of nonsense, and I was sitting and practicing the Patronus Charm. Well, as "practicing"—I tried to perform the spell "honestly," but quickly moved on to simulating positive emotions, gradually, little by little, increasing their power. The guys sometimes said something like: "Hard worker, don't overwork yourself," but I just smiled in response.
Just as it was almost time to go to dinner, a thin stream of silver-blue smoke began to emerge from my wand.
"Merlin's beard!" Ernie shouted immediately. "He's doing something, people!"
"It's just a lot of work and going through memories," I smiled tiredly, being completely satisfied with such a success.
Well, after dinner, I went to the Potions classroom. The doors were open, and inside, at his desk, sat Professor Snape, literally covered with scrolls of homework.
Knocking on the open door, I looked inside.
"May I ask, Professor?"
"Come in, sit down," Snape pointed to the table closest to him without looking at me. Only now did I notice Daphne sitting behind it, with all the necessary equipment laid out in front of her, and an empty cauldron standing on a stand next to the burner.
I came in and sat down.
"Greengrass."
"Granger."
"How lovely," Snape sneered, crossing out someone's work with a sweeping motion. "Ingredients?"
I pulled out the shrunken parcel and showed it on my palm. Snape made the parcel fly to the floor in front of him with one movement, and with the second movement of his wand, he dispelled the shrinking charm. Without looking closely or checking, with the third movement, he opened one of the packages and levitated two sets of different ingredients onto our table. With another wave of his wand, Snape made the recipe appear on the board.
"Ointment for boils, get started; the recipe is on the board," the professor stood up from his desk and walked towards the pantry, levitating the remaining ingredients behind him.
Looking at Daphne, who was already busy managing the table, arranging the bowls with ingredients in an order known only to her and carefully reading the recipe from the textbook, I could not help but draw her attention to the fact that had been repeated once again.
"There's a slightly different recipe on the board, again. Are the textbooks that bad?" I whispered quietly, drawing attention to myself.
Daphne looked calmly at me, at the board, thought for a couple of moments, and eventually closed the textbook, putting it on the far corner.
"As always," she nodded briefly to her own thoughts.
"Let me take care of the teeth; I have experience in this, and…" I glanced at the horned slugs. Alive. "I think I have a couple of questions for the professor."
By this time, the professor had already returned and was happily continuing to check the work, grimacing slightly every now and then at the sight of yet another amateur text written by the students.
"Professor Snape."
Snape looked up at me.
"Yes, Mr. Granger?"
"Professor," I stood up. "Regarding horned slugs. When in danger, they secrete a special neurotoxin and, if you believe the ingredient compatibility tables, it can cause a hyperthermic reaction when in contact with porcupine quills. Should the potion be removed from the fire and this reaction will allow it to reach readiness, or should the slug's body be divided in the sagittal plane with a silver knife?"
The professor looked at me attentively, tapping his finger on the table.
"And what will a sagittal dissection of a slug give you, especially with a silver knife?" he asked with a slight sarcasm 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, the remaining organs important for the potion will remain undamaged due to the paired symmetrical structure of the slug's body in this plane."
The professor nodded.
"The answer to your question is quite simple, Mr. Granger. The proper dissection of slugs requires an experience that very few can boast. Therefore, whole and alive horned slugs should be used, and the potion removed from the fire before using the 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 one point, Mr. Granger, for inattentive reading of the textbook literature."
Well, it couldn't be any other way. On the other hand, it's a purely symbolic "minus point," because if Snape wanted to punish, he would have taken off much more. Look, Potter and company leave with as much as minus fifteen for one lesson.
"How do you know?" Daphne asked, judging by her face, purely out of politeness.
"I read books; my memory is good. And this is a really interesting question, not mentioned in the recipe."
"I see. Will you cut?"
"I can, but right now we have one potion for both of us. If I were to prepare my own, I would try it, but this way—no."
Daphne nodded, and we began to prepare the potion.
At the end of the allotted time, when all that remained was to keep the potion at a certain temperature until it was ready, Snape suddenly spoke:
"You use rather specific terminology, Mr. Granger. Are you planning to go into medicine?"
This question took me by surprise. So far, I have only been establishing connections, adapting to society, and not planning for the future at all. What do I want? What do my personal experience and scraps of memory tell me?
"It seems I have overestimated the student's intellectual capabilities again," the professor chuckled.
The most interesting and varied was the life of an Elf. But from these memories, it is clear that it was 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, to learn about the world, to find himself in a variety of situations and troubles, of which only mentions remained in memory, but they remained.
"Healer, Professor."
Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Healer?"
"Yes, sir. But first, you need to become a good student at Hogwarts and successfully complete this path."
"Well. Given your background, such a desire is understandable. But it is a very difficult path. Perhaps you should consider becoming an Auror? Or a clerk at the Ministry?" Snape smirked more clearly than ever before. "Hufflepuffs are very good at being clerks."
"If it comes as easily to them as teaching Slytherin students, then I'm probably starting to worry about the effectiveness of our government apparatus."
"Hm. Not unreasonably, Mr. Granger."
The potion was ready; we removed the cauldron, and Snape checked the quality of the product by looking closely and sniffing.
"It can even be used," he noted dryly. "In extreme cases. You are free."