Chapter 21
Overall, Devero was fairly pleased with the banquet. However, it wasn't flawless.
There were three problems. First, apart from Marcus, none of the other students paid him much attention. It was likely Malfoy's influence, encouraging others to exclude Devero. There was a noticeable pattern of avoiding him. But Devero didn't mind much. He was primarily focused on the castle—or more specifically, the entry upgrade card.
The childish antics of these underage kids didn't bother him at all.
Second, the Bloody Baron was seated directly across from Devero.
Uh. Having a blood-stained figure facing you would understandably impact your appetite. Devero steered clear of red food the entire evening. But Malfoy appeared even more disturbed, hardly touching his meal. Devero, feeding off Malfoy's sour expression, found his appetite increasing.
Third, Snape's sudden arrival interrupted his feast. "Alexander, come with me." Devero hadn't even reached dessert when a familiar, low voice echoed, sending chills down his spine.
He turned stiffly to see Professor Snape, cloaked in black, his eyes sharp like a snake's. "We need to discuss your issue."
Devero's expression fell. Reluctantly, he set aside the pudding he'd been longing for and followed Snape.
Draco Malfoy's eyes brightened. He whispered eagerly to Goyle, pointing at Devero.
Crabbe, a bit slow, commented, "That guy's getting taken away by a teacher!"
"Haha, I thought my dad would have to intervene, but now Snape knows. He's close with my dad and always treats me well! Alexander's definitely getting expelled!" Draco's voice was thick with delight.
"Yeah, he was boasting about being top of the year, and now he's getting kicked out at the start of term!" Goyle added.
The three laughed smugly. Marcus, however, observed them leave with worry.
"No way… but Snape personally coming to get him… ugh, it doesn't look good," he muttered.
The Slytherins were convinced Devero was finished. At the staff table, Dumbledore glanced toward the Slytherin table, his clear blue eyes narrowing slightly.
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Devero followed Snape through the dim corridors, his mood heavy. He had no idea where Snape was leading him, but a persistent unease gnawed at him. His greatest fear was expulsion—it would make staying connected with the school's professors nearly impossible. Snape's footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, with Devero trailing behind, silently hoping everything would turn out fine.
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*Thud!*
Snape slammed a large sheet of parchment onto the desk.
"Write down your simplified Polyjuice Potion formula and the reasoning behind it." After bringing Devero into his office, Snape conjured a chair with his wand, sat at his desk, and stared intently at Devero.
Devero let out a sigh of relief. So it wasn't about the train incident—good.
He sat, took Snape's quill, and began writing. This formula had come to him after gaining his potion spirit.
It hadn't been tested, but Devero had a strong feeling it would work. Trusting his red entry instincts, he wrote it all down.
Snape said nothing as Devero worked, the only sound in the office being the scratching of the quill. In less than fifteen minutes, Devero finished, surprising Snape, who raised an eyebrow. He'd expected a kid like Devero to take at least half an hour to write something so intricate. But Devero was quick—because he'd memorized it all before arriving at Hogwarts.
Snape took the parchment and began reading. Truthfully, he'd been doubtful, suspecting Devero had made some arrangement with a dark wizard from Knockturn Alley who taught him spells and potion-making.
But now, his skepticism faded.
Sitting upright, Snape grabbed a quill and meticulously followed Devero's reasoning, fully engrossed in the realm of potions.
Devero finally had a chance to examine Snape's office. The moment he'd entered, the temperature seemed to drop.
Slytherin's spaces always felt a bit colder than elsewhere.
The walls were illuminated by dim yellow oil lamps, casting faint light. A large desk dominated the room, cluttered with books, parchments, and jars. Bottles of various colored liquids shimmered oddly under the light, some swirling as if alive.
In one corner of the desk sat a heavy black book, inscribed with silver ink in barely legible script. Behind the desk was a high-backed chair with a soft black velvet cushion, where Snape sat, his black robes blending into the shadows. His sharp, contemplative eyes glimmered in the darkness.
Behind him was a wooden door with a peeling bronze plaque that faintly read "Storage Room." Devero's eyes brightened.
*Jackpot!*
In the books, the protagonists often raided Snape's storage for herbs to escape trouble. Devero figured he'd be a frequent visitor here as well.
After half an hour, as Devero began to yawn, Snape finally set the parchment down, astonished.
The parchment was now filled with dense annotations, barely recognizable.
"Impossible!" Devero raised an eyebrow. Was the old bat still doubting him?
"This is absolutely not something those Knockturn Alley types could create!" Devero nodded, satisfied. 'Of course it isn't.'
Snape sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his forehead as he looked at Devero as if he were some kind of anomaly. "Why?"
"What do you mean, why?" Devero was confused by Snape's sudden question.
"When you were my apprentice, why didn't you do something like this? Suggest improvements or anything?" Snape's tone was softer now, his expression less severe, though still tinged with shock and confusion. Devero's work had shaken him so much he couldn't maintain his usual stern demeanor.
This kid's ideas could revolutionize potion-making in this field! It might even influence the entire study of potions! An unprecedented potions genius! Yet he'd been under Snape's nose for years, unnoticed? It baffled him.
"Uh, you didn't let me," Devero replied, delivering his prepared response. He knew it would leave Snape speechless.
"What? You… ugh…" Snape opened his mouth to argue but remembered how he'd treated Devero.
The kid had a point—he'd never given him a chance to speak up.
Seeing Snape's expression, Devero's lips curled slightly. Outsmarting this old bat was right up there with tormenting Malfoy as his favorite pastime.