Snape merely shrugged. "To truly unravel the mysteries of the soul… there are precious few wizards capable of it."
"Quite so…" Dumbledore murmured, a note of awe in his voice. "No wizard who walks the magical path can ever escape the eternal question of the soul…"
"Croak! Croak, croak, croak!" The toad beside the potions kit grew restless, as if its animal instincts had finally returned.
With a flick of his wand, Snape summoned a notebook.
As he recorded the data, he remarked, "Five days… Wyzett's Draught of Peace affected this toad for a full five days!"
"Marvelous… truly marvelous," Dumbledore echoed, wonder in his eyes.
The office lapsed into silence, broken only by the scratch of Snape's quill and the toad's persistent croaking.
"How insufferable." Snape finished his notes, then flicked his wand—vanishing the toad and its glass jar with a single, silent spell.
He turned to Dumbledore. "Why not tell Wyzett the whole truth?"
"In fact, we have told him part of it," Dumbledore replied. "He really shouldn't continue with these kinds of potions."
"Any wizard with expertise in soul magic could sense Wyzett's anomaly through such potions. That would be… disastrous."
"Like the Dark Lord?" Snape set down his notebook. "Wyzett sent Quirrell a bottle of Draught of Peace—I expect it'll end up in the Dark Lord's hands."
Dumbledore sighed. "Wyzett put so much care into every Christmas gift. We can't just crush that sincerity."
"That's why we resort to 'white lies'—protecting him by less than honorable means."
Snape gave a cold, mirthless laugh. "At least the Dark Lord will keep it quiet… He's hiding plenty of secrets, after all!"
"He claims to have achieved immortality, but never reveals the secret… That's Lord Voldemort for you."
"He wants to be everyone's Lord. He relishes it—that feeling of, 'Lord, Thy Holy Name Shall Be Spoken by None!'"
Dumbledore's tone was gentle but resolute. "And that's precisely why we must unearth this 'Lord's' secrets—and defeat him."
The second half of the school year arrived, and with it, a wave of anxiety swept through the castle.
Fifth- and seventh-years, facing their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, were especially tense. You'd see them everywhere—notes in hand, textbooks tucked under their arms, pages covered in frantic underlines and scribbled reminders, proof of endless days and sleepless nights.
The library, now a battlefield claimed by the upper years, thrummed with the constant shuffling of feet as students darted between shelves, hunting for fragments of knowledge that might tip the scales on exam day.
Even the Great Hall grew quieter at mealtimes. Steam rose from neglected dishes as students pored over their books, barely glancing up to join in the usual banter.
The anxious mood began to seep beyond the hall, cloaking even the common rooms in a heavy hush.
For Ravenclaw, the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom was everything—and nothing measured that better than exams.
Especially for the fifth- and seventh-years, conversation in the common room revolved around little else: heated debates about the finer points of Transfiguration theory, cross-checking the correct order of potion ingredients, reciting key dates and events from History of Magic until their voices grew hoarse…
Take Penelope, for example. As a prefect, she had to squeeze in time for patrols and keeping order around the castle. By now, after fulfilling her duties, she seemed exhausted—so much so that she barely spoke, on the verge of breaking down.
When Wyzett returned to the common room after a private lesson with Snape, he caught the sound of muffled sobs from a corner.
As he drew closer, his shadow falling across the floor, a head popped up—red-rimmed eyes clouded with confusion. "Wyzett?"
He nodded. "Penelope… what's wrong?"
"Ahem… it's nothing…" She hurriedly wiped her tears, hiding a thick textbook behind her back. "Just… sitting here for a bit."
Wyzett noticed it was a Potions textbook—Intermediate Potion-Making, a hefty tome. "If it's a Potions problem… maybe I can help."
"You mean go to Professor Snape? No! Absolutely not!" Penelope recoiled instinctively. "He's far too terrifying… There's just no way!"
Wyzett coughed. He hadn't even suggested it, but Penelope's reaction was so immediate.
…
It was clear—Professor Snape's reputation was truly abysmal.
In fact, even Professor Quirrell was more popular by comparison.
As Fred and George liked to say, even though Professor Quirrell stuttered through every lesson and you'd learn more from self-study, at least he was good-natured!
Even if you nailed him with a snowball, he'd never get angry.
Wyzett quickly advised, "Maybe don't do that next time? He's under a lot of pressure."
The twins snapped off a mock salute. "If our materials consultant asks, we promise—we won't do it again!"
Fred and George went on: if anyone dared throw a snowball at Snape's head…
Wyzett could still picture their exaggerated looks of terror, clutching their throats and wailing, "We'd never see the sunrise! He'd poison us before the night was through!"
…
"Actually, Professor Snape… isn't so bad to talk to," Wyzett offered carefully. "You just have to know how to pick out the important bits. That's just his… communication style."
"Really?" Penelope seemed to calm, dabbing away the last of her tears. Her eyes weren't quite so red now.
"Of course!" Wyzett nodded. "I just asked him a few questions myself…"
"Tell me what you need help with first, and next time I see Professor Snape, I'll ask for you too."
"That would be… nice," Penelope said, a little embarrassed. "He's never yelled at you?"
"Wait! Didn't he… actually give you points once? I heard some Hufflepuffs talking about it!"
"He did," Wyzett admitted, smiling. "So go ahead, tell me."
Penelope nodded and, after a moment's hesitation, pulled out her textbook, flipping to a page covered in multicolored highlights.
"It's about the Invigoration Draught," she said. "I remember Professor Snape mentioning two key steps when he was scolding someone…"
She pointed to two stages in the brewing process. "Here—about the dosage and the speed of stirring. He said there's a way to speed up the brewing process, but…"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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