School Finances

In the dimly lit classroom, Snape's almost tangible gaze swept over the young wizards with a steady, unwavering pace, pausing only for a moment when it swept over Harry.

Loren sat on the right side of the classroom, with Hermione at the same desk. Harry sat behind them, and Gryffindor members from the Potions Club were gathered in this area.

Tucked among the pages of the book open on the desk was the parchment list from the previous night, with some verifiable ideas already laid out to the right of the African egret flower. He wasn't just adding these painful herbs; he was also trying to make the Wolfsbane Potion more... palatable without affecting its potency.

Putting down his quill, temporarily clearing his mind of all the Potions- related methods crammed into his head, and stepping out of deep thought, Loren recalled the scene in the Potions Office last night.

Since Sirius Black left Hogwarts after the Easter Holiday, last night was the first time he had been alone with Professor Snape, and the professor didn't mention Sirius Black at all.

Doesn't the professor know about the feud between him and Sirius Black?

Loren doesn't think so.

Given his hostility towards Sirius Black, Professor Snape would certainly not ignore his sudden departure and would definitely question Dumbledore about the reason.

Based on Dumbledore's habits, he would likely tell Snape the reason and remind Snape to be mindful of his thoughts and mindset at all times.

But Snape didn't mention it at all, completely ignoring the matter. Loren even felt that some of the absurd Wolfsbane Potion improvement missions were, in a way, a comforting distraction. This gave Loren a sense of being taken care of.

Snape looked around to make sure everyone was present, then asked, "Does anyone know Damocles Belby?"

Damocles Belby, who was awarded the Order of Merlin Second Class for his Wolfsbane Potion, was featured in the Daily Prophet's award ceremony a few days ago. The ceremony was attended by celebrities from all walks of life in the Britain Wizarding World, and he is the most talked-about cover figure since Lockhart.

Werewolf Disease is characterized by its wide spread, large number of infected people, strong concealment, and difficulty in controlling the source of infection. Due to the impact of Werewolf Disease, Wolfsbane Potion caused a sensation in many countries as soon as it was made public.

In particular, as a nation of immigrants, the America has seen a large number of Werewolf who could not survive in their homelands flee to United States over the past few centuries. The large Werewolf communities that gathered there once caused great turmoil and almost exposed the existence of the Wizarding World.

One of the twelve Founders of the American Magical Congress's Aurors perished in an attack by Werewolf.

Aside from government officials, numerous magic schools extended teaching invitations to Damocles Belby, including Ilvermorny, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang ...

Hermione recalled the exaggerated photograph in the center of the Daily Prophet, showing Damocles Belby holding his medal, surrounded by officials from other countries attending the ceremony. High-ranking officials from the American Magical Congress, the German Ministry of Magic, the French Ministry of Magic, and many other wizarding governments attended the ceremony, while the British Ministry of Magic was represented by Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Belby is Britain, and the investiture ceremony took place within Britain. Traditionally, the Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, should have been the one to present the medal; Fudge should have been present regardless. However, Fudge was absent, and so was Senior Undersecretary Umbridge, who was supposed to fill in.

Given Barty Crouch's position, his attendance at the ceremony was more about exchanging ideas with other countries' Ministry of Magic, so it seems they didn't really want to congratulate Mr. Belby.

Considering the recently enacted Anti-Werewolf Law, the Ministry of Magic's attitude became subtle and ambiguous.

What should the Werewolf in Britain do? Hermione's mind raced with a multitude of inexplicable thoughts, but she couldn't come up with an answer.

Most of the members of the Potions Club raised their hands. They were students specializing in Potions Master, many of whom aspired to develop in the field and closely followed the developments in Potions Master Potions Master world. They were no strangers to the Potions Master master who recently won the Order of Order of Merlin Second Class for his Wolfsbane Potion.

Apart from Harry, he paused, looking around at the classmates who had raised their hands, his expression blank.

Snape glanced at him expressionlessly, then quickly looked away. "Mr. Belby graduated from Hogwarts and, after completing his studies, worked on improving classic Potions recipes. In the mid-1970s, about twenty years ago, he saw a record of Ancient Egypt sorcerer's ritual of taming Werewolf in a tattered history book. Inspired by the mysterious ritual, he conceived the idea of developing Wolfsbane Potion."

Upon hearing this, Loren looked thoughtful.

Snape had previously stated that Potions and spells are essentially magical rituals, just expressed differently. Mr. Belby's practice of developing formulas through rituals perfectly illustrates this point.

"It wasn't until this year that the formula for the Wolfsbane Potion was finalized." Snape's voice was deep and his pace unhurried, his words seemingly drifting into the hearts of the young wizards. "Many people aspire to gain honor, prestige, wealth, and even power from Potions Master, and Belby is exactly what you aspire to be."

But I must warn you, besides Belby, most Potions Master enthusiasts remain unknown. The long, monotonous life will wear down the ambitions of most, leaving them only able to struggle for a meager living.

Upon hearing this, Loren thought Snape was overthinking it; Potions, being skilled workers, would never be too poor, no matter how hard they tried.

Some of the young wizards in the audience listened quietly to Snape's lecture. In fact, the last large-scale production of Wormwood Essence had already made many people realize the cruelty of this industry. Those who had experienced setbacks but had not given up the idea of working in this field did not care about these few words.

Snape looked at the group of young wizards, some of whom were older students who had privately approached him, begging him to write some letters of recommendation.

The young wizards listened attentively, without any sign of difficulty. Snape pursed his lips. "The procurement of raw materials, the production and research of Potions, preservation, sales... After learning about the bleak reality, if you still want to work in any of these fields, you can register with Professor McGonagall. She will arrange some internships during the summer."

The students below the stage widened their eyes in surprise, but before they could even begin to discuss it, Snape decisively interrupted, "Let's begin the lesson now. Today we'll be talking about the effects of the moon on the properties of Potions..."

While listening to the lecture, Loren took some time to recall this matter. Snape had mentioned it back when they were dealing with the Basilisk's corpse during the Christmas holidays. Hogwarts ' Potions business was going to expand, so Professor McGonagall was going to hire a group of people.

Why arrange internships? It's probably just using cheap labor.

Dinner time, in the Great Hall.

Sitting to the right of the High Table, Snape broke off a piece of buckwheat bread from his plate and said, "Minerva, the word has been passed on, and someone should be registering with you soon."

"Understood, I will arrange the selection as soon as possible."

"Oh..." Professor Flitwick praised the delicious borscht, blew on his beard and exclaimed, "I didn't expect the business to expand so quickly. Just a year ago, we applied to the Board of Governors for more funding for Pomona's rare seeds."

Sprout put down his knife and fork and explained seriously, "Actually, it wouldn't have mattered if I had given the seeds away for teaching purposes free of charge. It was Minerva who insisted on counting it as a purchase from me by the school, and calculating it at the market price."

Professor McGonagall smiled faintly, "That's only right. I have another plan. Once the school is fully independent, we can pay the school staff proportionally, and even share some of the compensation with the students."

"Great!" Professor Flitwick immediately thought of many things. "With the school's original scholarship fund, they won't need secondhand magic books anymore."

"Even the school's flying brooms can be replaced with new ones..."

"And those broken crucibles."

Because of the constraints imposed by the Board of Governors, the school's finances, while not exactly tight, are not abundant either. Many teaching materials are older than the students, and some are even older than the professors. If it weren't for the fact that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors often donate without pay, and that alumni frequently donate, many things would be impossible to replace when they break.

The flying brooms for the Flying Class are still the old-fashioned Cleansweep series. Some magic supply stores have stopped selling these brooms, so people who can't bear to leave them piled up in the warehouse use them to sweep the floor.

For young wizards experiencing flight for the first time, these brooms often have some mischievous little problems and safety vulnerabilities. Professor McGonagall has already planned to purchase a batch of affordable brooms during the holidays, retiring the current batch of old brooms.

After listening to her colleagues chatter about their needs, Professor McGonagall smiled and said slowly, "It's still a long way from the school operating completely independently. We have a long way to go."

"Wouldn't this process be faster if the previous accounts were accurate?" Dumbledore thought happily, sitting in the main seat.

Mentioning the previous accounts, Professor McGonagall's smile faltered. She glanced at the old headmaster's white beard and said, "The most pressing issue now is the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, a 'real' Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."

Dumbledore blinked, thought for a moment, and realized that he shouldn't have brought up the accounting error when the atmosphere was just right.

"Hmm, I think that expanding too fast might mask some of the problems. Slowing down appropriately is a wise choice." He paused for a moment, stroking his beard. "As for the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, don't worry, Minerva, I already have a suitable candidate who will take up the post after the summer break."

"I hope he can spend Christmas at school. As for Easter— " Professor McGonagall hesitated for a moment before raising her glass and saying, "We'll talk about it after Christmas."

Flitwick and Sprout focused on their lunch, but eventually couldn't help bursting into cheerful laughter.

At the Gryffindor table, Loren was struggling with a dish of braised veal shank. The firm, tender meat and chewy tendons of the veal shank created a wonderful texture as they collided with his teeth, and the savory, thick broth made him almost want to swallow his tongue along with it.

Food is delicious, but when gnawing on bones with a Mandrake Leaf in your mouth, you need to be careful. Besides the possibility of accidentally biting off the leaf with your teeth, bones and cartilage in your mouth are also sharp weapons to the tender leaf.

When Loren was getting his food, he had a bad feeling that he might be doomed by this delicious braised veal shank, but he didn't hesitate much before getting it.

Nothing is more important than eating.

After carefully finishing the first beef shank, Loren pursed his lips and used his tongue to press the leaf against his palate to verify its quality.

Hmm, the leaves are intact, without any scratches, and I didn't taste any grass juice.

Loren immediately felt relieved and grabbed the second beef shank to start gnawing on.

The crunching sound only rang out twice, and a fresh, tender leafy flavor spread across the tongue, sour, slightly astringent, with a hint of sweetness.

The Mandrake Leaf was broken and in my mouth.

Loren paused for a moment, even smacked his lips, and tasted it; the flavor wasn't bad.

Looking at the stewed beef in his hand, its color a tempting reddish-brown, its aroma irresistible, and with a crunchy bone still in his mouth, Loren didn't think much of it and chewed the Mandrake before swallowing it.

The herbal juice had a refreshing aroma and even helped to cut through the greasiness and enhance the flavor, making Loren eat even more happily.

"Is it good?" Hermione's voice rang out from the side.

Loren nodded. "It's delicious, mainly because it has a good texture and is chewy."

"I mean Mandrake."

"Hehe..." Loren chuckled, "You found out."

He paused mid-eat, his expression suggesting he was savoring the moment. Anyone could tell. Hermione glanced at him, reached for the last small beef shank on his plate, and took a small bite.

"No—" Loren reached out to stop her, but suddenly noticed that Hermione's diet was normal today. The soft banana oatmeal and stewed meat had been replaced with steak, fried sausage, and even croissants with hard crusts.

Hermione lowered her head and nibbled on the chewy beef shank. "I accidentally chewed it when I was brushing my teeth this morning, and I spat it out right away."

Loren raised his eyebrows and looked at her with some surprise. "I didn't even notice until you said so. Aren't you disappointed?"

"Not disappointed."

"Why?"

Hermione's tone carried the pleasure of enjoying a meal. "Because we haven't yet grasped the principles of Animagus Transformation, nor the method of suppressing our wildness with reason, this ritual was destined to fail from the start."

"I told you so!" Loren muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. "I said it from the beginning, but you wouldn't believe me. Why didn't you tell me sooner that it failed..."

"If it weren't for me, you would have gotten annoyed and spat out the mandrake on the first day. If I had told you I failed, you would have turned around and spat the Mandrake into the trash can right away. I wanted to see how long you could have lasted," Hermione whispered. "And you failed yourself."

"It's not my fault. I was fine when I ate the first ox knee, it must be the second one that's the problem."

Hermione ignored him, her expression calm, focusing on savoring the food in front of her.