Living Death

Pomona knew Snape had an exceptional talent for Potions, but she had not expected Slughorn to think so highly of him that he would actually let a first-year attempt to brew the Draught of Living Death.

That was an advanced potion, one that some professions never even needed. It was not taught until at least sixth year. Compared to those two, her talent could only be called mediocre. But so what? She would be very rich in the future. Geniuses needed funding to continue their research, and when the time came, would they not have to seek her sponsorship?

She would become a sugar mommy, free to pick from all the handsome, talented young men she wanted. But the moment that thought surfaced, a House-elf actually threw a clod of dirt at her head. The pain made her cry out, while Snape actually laughed happily at her misfortune.

You could obviously laugh. Why did you always keep such a stiff face?

You were obviously unhappy. Why did you insist on putting on that fake smile?

Perhaps this argument in Pomona's mind would not end until the end of the world. How could people from two different worlds possibly live together?

Snape was brewing Pixie Palsy Potion. A single spray from a bottle would paralyze Pixies, but the potion was harmful to humans. Yet he seemed not to care about his health at all. At last, she understood where his greasy hair and terrible complexion came from.

"You'll die young, Snape." Pomona wanted to warn him out of kindness, but someone as odd-tempered as him would probably let good advice go in one ear and out the other. It would be better to mock him directly so he would remember it.

"You'll live to a hundred, Martin," Snape said slowly as he stirred the potion in the cauldron. "With that incomparably stupid head of yours, smiling foolishly all day."

"When are you going to start brewing the Draught of Living Death?" Before Pomona could lose her temper, Lily hurriedly changed the subject.

"Before Halloween at the latest." Snape answered almost every question Lily asked.

Only then did Pomona remember that she had not asked Angie when she planned to make her move. If all-out war between Slytherin and Hufflepuff broke out before she brewed the antidote, her dream of getting rich would be ruined.

"Snape, how about we make a deal?" Without waiting for him to answer, Pomona continued, "How long would it take to brew a cauldron of antidote?"

"How do you plan to divide the profits?" Snape asked without looking up from the cauldron.

Profit created motivation. Naturally, the more money offered, the more enthusiastic one would be about working, and the less time it would take to brew a cauldron of potion. But if the payment was insufficient, the great Potions genius Mr. Snape would be busy with the Draught of Living Death instead.

"I'll provide the ingredients. Seventy-thirty."

"One cauldron a month," Snape answered without hesitation.

"You're so greedy!" Pomona shrieked.

"Two months," Snape added coldly.

"Then how do you want to split it?"

"Include Lily. The two of us get thirty percent each, and you get forty percent alone."

How advantageous that sounded. Pomona had initially proposed a seventy-thirty split, and he would still get thirty percent. But Lily was on his side, which meant he would effectively get sixty percent. Pomona had to provide the ingredients and only received the smaller share of forty percent.

"Despicable!"

"Who's more despicable?" Snape stopped stirring the cauldron and glanced sideways at Pomona. "Weren't you planning to make Lily help you for free?"

"All right, Severus, I don't need my share." Lily tried to smooth things over. Snape snorted and lowered his head to continue stirring the cauldron.

"No, he's right." Pomona agreed readily. "We'll divide it as you said. What's the fastest you can make one cauldron?"

"If there are enough ingredients, one cauldron a day. But I should remind you that bezoars and Unicorn horns are difficult to find."

She could ask Hagrid to think of a way to get Unicorn horns, but bezoars would be much harder to obtain.

A bezoar was a stone found in a cow's stomach. Only one cow in a thousand would have one, making it even more precious than diamonds.

"How many people can drink one cauldron of antidote?"

"That depends on the severity of the poisoning. Three for severe cases, twenty for mild cases."

To make money, she had to invest. The lure of an antidote that sold for thirty-two Galleons a dose was right before her. Even if this war did not happen, she could still find somewhere to sell it. The money invested in ingredients would not be lost by much, though the time before she could give Snape and Lily their shares would be dragged out considerably.

"Deal." Pomona held out her hand to Snape, deliberately saying nothing about when they would receive their shares. Snape gave her a contemptuous look and continued observing the color of the potion in the cauldron.

"Pomona, why did you think of selling antidote?" Lily looked at her worriedly.

"Perhaps Slytherin and Hufflepuff will soon go to war." Pomona withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, putting on an arrogant air. "Since you're a partner, Snape, I'll kindly remind you to watch the food on your dining table."

Lily sucked in a sharp breath.

"You think the likes of you can poison us?" Snape sneered, looking directly at her for the first time.

"If you don't believe me, just wait and see."

"Poisoning people is illegal. You can't do this." Lily tried to persuade them both. "What if someone dies?"

"That's why we're making antidote." Pomona looked at Snape provocatively. "Provided the antidote he brews can really cure poison."

"Antidote isn't omnipotent. It only works against the vast majority of poisons. There are some poisons it cannot cure." That cauldron of Pixie Palsy Potion seemed to be finished. Several Pixies flying past dropped to the ground after catching the scent wafting from it, so Snape removed the heat and set the potion aside to cool.

"You're already making excuses for yourself?"

"I'm only reminding you to know your limits. Don't do something stupid in a moment of impulse that you'll regret when you look back on it." Snape crossed his arms in imitation of her. "Don't think Azkaban won't take underage wizards."

Pomona stared into his eyes. At such a young age, they were already lifeless, like two pitch-black tunnels.

"Why did you follow him?" She heard a woman ask again.

"I thought he could teach me something," a tired man answered. "He used to be a great teacher."

"Did you learn what you wanted to learn?" the woman asked again.

"Perhaps." After hesitating for a long time, the man answered, "But I think she taught me more."

"Why do you never learn your lesson, Hufflepuff?" Young Snape curled his lips smugly. "You always provoke the wrong people."

"And you always choose the wrong allies," Pomona replied coldly. "Back then, weren't the wizards in Slytherin the ones in Britain who followed Grindelwald the most?"

Snape's expression immediately darkened.

"That was twenty-five years ago."

"Some things cannot be forgotten just because time passes." Pomona's tone hardened as well. "Many victims of that war are still alive!"

Like House-elves, they were still suffering the consequences of the war. Perhaps the dead were fortunate, while those who survived continued living in hell.

"They have nothing to do with me," Severus Snape said coldly.

"No, Snape, they have everything to do with you." Pomona sneered. "Because like you, they're human."

Snape narrowed his eyes just as he had when he caught her leaving Professor Slughorn's office in the dungeons last time, as though he had seized hold of something against her. The gesture reminded her of a snake, except a snake's pupils contracted vertically.

"Human? Why use that word? Aren't you human too?"

"Of course I'm human," Pomona said. She was just mixed-blood. "The greenhouse should have the ingredients you need. I'll find a way to get the bezoars and Unicorn horns. Start working."

Snape glanced at the malnourished plants and snorted disdainfully.

"Start working, Martin. I hope this greenhouse looks better than it does now the next time I come."

"Aren't you here to help?" Seeing that he was about to leave, Pomona hurriedly called out.

"I've already finished helping. The potion is on the table. I have no use here anymore," Snape said without turning back. "If I stay any longer, I'll be good for nothing except sitting around and staring into space."

"Where are you going?" Lily asked.

"The library!" Snape said. "I'll be where I was yesterday, Lily."

"Are you doing homework with us today?" Lily turned and asked Pomona.

"No." Pomona took the filthy spray bottle out of the bucket and slammed it onto the table. "I have other things to do."

"All right, then." Lily shrugged again. "What do we do next?"

"Wait for this damned potion to cool, then spray it throughout the greenhouse."

"That's easy." Lily pulled out her wand, cleared her throat, then waved it and said, "Glacius."

"No, Lily!"

Unfortunately, Pomona shouted too late.

After being rapidly heated and rapidly cooled, the poor cauldron shattered, spilling all the finished potion inside.

Some things could not be rushed. One could only wait slowly. Unfortunately, people nowadays were all impatient, so they ended up ruining things through overzealousness, just like that cauldron of potion that failed at the final step.

"Oh, damn it!" Lily hopped around with her wand in hand. Pomona felt sure Lily wished she could take a regret potion right now, but unfortunately, there was no such thing for sale. Even if there were, it would be a divine artifact beyond the reach of ordinary people.

It was not so easy to start over, so one could not act impulsively or rush when making every choice, because choices were more important than effort.

Unfortunately, many people in this world believed effort was more important than choice. They never learned from their predecessors' experiences, kept making the wrong choices, and ultimately turned both their own lives and others' into tragedies.