Cross-Contamination

It was two in the morning in Silas Cyril's dormitory in Ravenclaw Tower.

Silas Cyril jolted awake as if pricked by something, sitting bolt upright in bed. The sudden movement startled the Niffler in the cage beside him, which let out a couple of disgruntled squeaks.

"Hungry... woke up hungry..." he mumbled, clutching his rumbling stomach with a look of utter despair. The desserts from the welcome feast were hardly enough to sustain his growing body (and his magic-consuming physique).

With his sleep completely gone, he simply rolled out of bed. In the darkness, he snapped his fingers, and a soft, flashlight-like white light bloomed at his fingertip. Familiar with the routine, he pulled out his brass cauldron from under the bed and placed it on the small magical stand built into the center of the dormitory table. He expertly cast an Ignition Charm (this time using his wand, to avoid triggering the fire alarm).

Then, as if performing magic, he began opening small Portals one after another, pulling out various ingredients: several prime cuts of beef brisket, some carrots, a white radish, a few tomatoes, a bunch of scallions and ginger... and even a small bag of dried shiitake mushrooms and a few red dates.

"Sigh," he sighed while preparing the ingredients, "I've used up all the chili peppers I bought last time. I'll just have to make do with a clear broth for today. At least I still have some dipping sauce..."

He blanched the beef brisket, then tossed all the ingredients into the cauldron, added water, and secretly sprinkled in some basic spices he'd "borrowed" from the kitchen (he didn't dare use anything too complex for fear of clashing flavors). He covered it with a lid and let it simmer slowly over a low heat.

Soon, a fragrance distinct from any Potions Class concoction, a blend of meaty aroma, the sweetness of vegetables, and a hint of spices, began to fill the small dormitory. The Niffler in its cage stirred restlessly, clearly drawn by the scent.

Silas sat contentedly nearby, magically controlling the heat while pulling out a copy of Advanced Potion-Making to pass the time. An hour later, a steaming, clear-broth, yet incredibly delicious "Clear Broth Beef Brisket Stew" was complete.

He enjoyed his late-night meal immensely, even drinking every last drop of the soup. Afterward, he meticulously cleaned the cauldron, even using a powerful cleaning charm and a deodorizing charm, believing he had covered his tracks perfectly. Only then did he climb back into bed, satisfied, to continue sleeping.

The next morning, Silas woke up feeling refreshed. He conjured a Portal directly to a side entrance of the Great Hall and went straight for breakfast (he wisely avoided all classic English dishes, opting only for some fruit and bread).

Then, he checked his schedule.

"First period... Potions Class. Tch, Black Bat King's class." He pursed his lips but still packed his things and followed the crowd towards the underground classroom.

The Potions classroom was cold and damp, perpetually filled with the strange scent of various medicinal herbs. Professor Snape glided silently through the room like a giant bat, explaining the day's task—the creation of the Scabbers Potion—in his low, silken, yet oppressively commanding voice.

Silas took out his cauldron and ingredients, preparing to proceed step-by-step. Although he possessed a great deal of advanced potion knowledge, he decided it was best to keep a low profile under Professor Snape's watchful eye.

Snape patrolled the classroom, occasionally criticizing a student's mistake with sharp words. When he glided to Silas's workstation, his steps suddenly halted.

His aquiline nose twitched slightly, and a minuscule, almost imperceptible flicker crossed his sallow face. He lowered his head, his icy gaze falling upon Silas's seemingly spotless brass cauldron.

The entire classroom instantly fell silent, everyone sensing a palpable drop in pressure gathering around Silas.

Snape, in his characteristic tone that could freeze a person solid, slowly, deliberately, asked:

"Kirill..."

He paused, as if savoring the words to come.

"Explain... why the inner wall of your cauldron... still retains a trace... of a faint, yet undeniably non-potion-related... food aroma?"

Silas's hand, holding a porcupine quill, froze mid-air. His heart gave a lurch.

"Uh..." He opened his mouth, his mind racing to find a plausible excuse, like "Did some of the dinner scent accidentally get mixed in while I was practicing cleaning charms last night?" But looking into Snape's black eyes, which seemed to see through everything, he knew any lie would be futile.

It was over. His midnight snack had been exposed.

Snape's black-hole-like eyes fixed on Silas. The classroom was so quiet that the faint clinking sound of a trembling hand stirring a cauldron could be heard clearly. The oppressive atmosphere was almost suffocating the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students nearby.

Silas felt a prickle of unease under the intense scrutiny. In his desperation, some wire must have snapped in his brain, or perhaps his cursed instinct for snark had once again overridden his survival instinct. He opened his mouth, and an incredibly ill-timed, textbook-level self-destructive remark blurted out:

"Um... Black Bat King... no, no! Professor Snape!" He almost blurted out the nickname he'd given Snape in his mind, quickly correcting himself, "Since your nose is so sensitive... and you can detect such a faint smell in my cauldron... why don't you wash your hair? Aren't you afraid... afraid it might stink up yourself?"

"Hiss--!"

A collective intake of breath swept through the underground classroom! All Hogwarts students, even the famously brave Gryffindors, would have been terrified out of their wits by those words!

Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff freshman sitting next to Silas, turned deathly pale. He stared fixedly at the ground, wishing he could bury himself in his cauldron, already mentally cursing his foolish self from a few minutes ago who thought, "This Ravenclaw looks quite capable; maybe making potions will be easier sitting next to him!" Merlin above! Would he be implicated by this loose-lipped lunatic and turned into potion ingredients by Snape too?!

Professor Snape's body visibly stiffened. His complexion shifted from sallow to livid, his lips pressed into a pale line, and the chill emanating from him seemed to freeze the very air. He stared at Silas, his eyes churning with suppressed rage and disbelief, as if he couldn't believe his own ears.

Silence descended for a full five seconds, each second feeling like an eternity to everyone in the classroom.

Finally, Snape, in an extremely cold voice that could freeze the soul, enunciated each word, announcing in a tone that was not loud but struck each person's heart clearly:

"Mr. Kirill. For your extreme disrespect towards your professor... Ravenclaw, minus one hundred points."

One hundred points! On the first day of school! The very first class! Minus one hundred points immediately!

All the Ravenclaw students saw stars, feeling as if their House Point Hourglass had instantly run dry. Even students from other houses were stunned.

Silas, upon hearing the score, also froze for a moment. Then, instinctively, with a hint of innocence and a tone of reminder, he retorted, "Professor... it's not even been half a day since school started, and our House... hasn't started accumulating points yet, has it? Aren't you being a bit too hasty with the deduction?"

He was right; the House Point Hourglass was indeed empty.

Snape: "..."

He was momentarily speechless, choked by Silas's "righteous" reminder. Of course, he knew the hourglass was empty. He had intended to use such a massive point deduction to shock this unruly brat into submission and to burden the Ravenclaw house, making them constantly "remember" this new student's "feat."

But now, with Silas's "reminder," he realized that deducting a non-existent score did indeed seem... rather comical and ineffective.

Snape's expression flickered. He stared intently at Silas, his chest rising and falling slightly. At that moment, he desperately wanted to give the boy a year of detention, forcing him to deal with the most disgusting slugs and frog brains every day! But then he thought of Dumbledore's smiling face, and the troublesome "special circumstances" surrounding this student...

Ultimately, Snape forcibly suppressed the urge to lash out immediately. He gave Silas a deeply sinister look, filled with the unspoken threat of "you just wait," and squeezed out through gritted teeth:

"Continue... making your potions. If anyone else makes such a foolish mistake..." He didn't finish, but the unsaid threat sent a shiver down everyone's spine.

With that, he abruptly flung his black robe and turned towards the lectern like a dark cloud, leaving Silas standing there. He didn't mention the point deduction again, nor did he immediately assign detention. Instead, in the special "grudge notebook" he kept for Silas Cyril, he added another entry with bold, enlarged lettering.

Silas watched Snape's retreating back, letting out a sigh of relief. He patted his chest and muttered softly, "Scared me to death... Glad he's reasonable..."

Justin Finch-Fletchley beside him nearly fainted upon hearing this. Reasonable? Merlin's Beard! He began seriously considering whether he should request a seat change... For the next Potions class, he would definitely try to secure a seat as far away from Silas Cyril as possible!