The potion class continued, and Professor Snape's cold attitude extended to the other Gryffindor students as well.
The students paired up to brew a simple potion for treating scabies. The process required weighing dried nettles, crushing snake fangs, and steaming slugs with tentacles.
Snape praised Malfoy for his flawless execution of the steps. The blond boy really handled the task perfectly.
The most dangerous part was adding the porcupine quills. The book warned that an error at this stage could lead to serious trouble—and soon everyone understood exactly what that meant.
Neville and Seamus were partners. They added the porcupine quills before removing the pot from the fire.
Suddenly, a puff of acidic green smoke burst from the cauldron. The pot twisted, shrank into a ball, and overturned—pouring its contents across the stone floor with a sizzling, corrosive hiss.
"Ah!"
Nearby students scrambled onto stools, with a few slower ones suffering holes burned through their shoes.
No one was seriously hurt—except Neville.
The potion splashed onto his arms and thighs, eating through his clothes and causing painful, red welts on his skin.
Unable to bear the pain, Neville collapsed to the floor, wailing. He tried to cover the wounds with his hands, but the agony intensified, squeezing pus from the lesions.
Loren and Ron watched, deeply uncomfortable but helpless.
Snape arrived, glaring fiercely at Neville with obvious anger.
He waved his wand, clearing the spilled potion from the floor, then quickly cast healing spells on Neville, easing his cries.
From under his robes, Snape produced a small black bottle and poured a drop of a white, sap-like substance into the scabies potion. He applied this mixture to Neville's wounds.
The swelling and redness subsided rapidly, leaving only faint red marks. Neville cautiously touched the skin, then flinched in pain again.
Snape finally spoke, scolding, "Idiot. You forgot to take the pot off the fire before adding the porcupine quills, didn't you?"
Neville sobbed in response.
"Send him to the infirmary ward. This is only temporary treatment—he needs proper care."
Snape turned to Seamus and ordered, "Help him up."
Seamus helped Neville to his feet and escorted him to the school infirmary.
Hermione bit her lip, anger and fear flashing in her eyes. "This is too dangerous. There are no safety measures in these experiment classes!"
Loren's impression of potion class had been limited to Snape's earlier teasing of Harry, but the accident startled him as well.
He comforted Hermione, "It was just an accident. Everyone will be more careful from now on."
One by one, the other students climbed down from their stools and resumed their seats. Some praised Snape's mastery of potions.
Harry was still shaken when Snape snapped at him, "Potter, why didn't you warn him not to add the porcupine quills? Do you think Gryffindor benefits if he fails? Another five points lost."
Harry felt a surge of frustration. He didn't understand the bitterness between his parents and Snape's deep hatred for him.
The hour-long class finally ended.
After lunch, the three friends set off to meet Hagrid. Walking through sunlit fields, their moods lifted, the warmth chasing away the gloom of the potion disaster.
"Ah~"
Loren, having spent years in the wilderness, felt at home in such surroundings. He stopped after running a few steps, plucking wild grass and flowers. Harry and Ron caught the enthusiasm, running and pausing beside him.
At five minutes to three, they hurried to Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and rubber overshoes stood outside the door.
Loren, fond of rustic cabins, knocked first.
The door opened a crack, revealing a bearded face that looked surprised to see Loren. Then Hagrid smiled warmly when he spotted Harry behind him.
"Oh, come in! I was so busy I forgot we had an appointment."
He pulled back the hound and welcomed the three inside.
The hut was one room—a low ceiling from which hams and pheasants hung, a copper kettle simmered over a brazier, and a large bed in the corner was covered with worn rags. The place was even more dilapidated than Loren's home.
"Sit down, make yourselves comfortable," Hagrid said, releasing the dog.
The hound bounded over to Ron, who nearly cried from fright. The dog, however, simply licked Ron's ears.
Hagrid chuckled. "This is Fang, not as fierce as he looks."
Harry and Loren laughed at Ron's embarrassed expression.
"This is Ron and Loren, my friends," Harry introduced.
Hagrid nodded. "Another Weasley! Your brothers have caused me plenty of trouble—I've spent most of my life chasing them out of the Forbidden Forest."
He handed out rock cakes, the biscuits clattering sharply on the plate.
"Try one! Fang loves 'em."
Harry and Ron bit cautiously.
"Crack!"
Their faces twisted in pain as the hard cakes threatened to break their teeth. Smiling at Hagrid's enthusiasm, they pretended to enjoy the tough treat, grinding it carefully.
Hearing the crunching, Loren understood why Fang liked them—like doggy chew sticks.
Holding a rock cake, Loren started complaining about Hogwarts' stairs.
The conversation shifted. Harry recounted their classes and griped about Snape's unfairness and harshness.
Hagrid hesitated before trying to defend Snape. "He's a professor. He wouldn't target you specifically."
Harry thought the words empty.
"Ahem."
Hagrid changed the subject to Ron. "How's your brother Charlie? He's like me—good with animals."
The sudden shift kept Harry from dwelling on Snape.
Ron talked about Charlie's dragon-related work after graduation.
Loren picked up the Daily Prophet on the table, scanning through it.
Harry glimpsed a report of a recent break-in at Gringotts. The intruder had entered an empty vault. The owner had already removed all valuables that day, so nothing was stolen.
A goblin spokesperson said only that they had no comment and advised against interference.
Loren recognized Dumbledore's hand in the trap set for Voldemort, but he had plenty of complaints for Gringotts' goblins.
"They're hooligans," he muttered. "Their vaults are so accessible, and yet they say nothing's missing. Warning customers not to pry—how convenient."
Harry recalled that unforgettable day.
"Hagrid! We were there when Gringotts was broken into!"
"Ah? I don't quite remember," Hagrid replied evasively, looking around.
Harry filed that away in his mind. Was the small bag Hagrid took from vault 713 the target of the intruder?
Time passed unnoticed. One rock cake was enough to fill the afternoon tea.
Loren slipped his cake to Fang when no one was watching.
Returning from the visit, Harry's mind was full of questions: What was in that bag Hagrid took? Where was it now? Why did Hagrid avoid talking about Snape?