Candied Pineapple

"When handling Horned Slugs, pay attention to the distribution of their slime.

Try to choose a time when they are secreting more slime.

If you see them extend their tentacles and touch the tabletop,

don't hesitate. That is the best time to boil them...

A small reminder: when tiny bubbles begin to rise in the Cauldron, you can stop boiling...

Very good! Mr. Dickinson, that was handled just right.

Oh! Mr. Green, perhaps you boiled yours for a little too long.

Remember? You can stop once tiny bubbles begin to rise in the Cauldron..."

Inside the Greenhouse.

The twelve Cauldrons set up inside bubbled away, steam curling through the air and making the pumpkin-shaped plants sway slightly.

Professor Sprout had just praised Bruce when she hurried over to Sean's side and helped him put the escaped slug back on the table.

She smiled gently and said:

"Mr. Green, don't let the slugs get away next time."

Sean was indeed a little flustered. He was handling two Cauldrons at once.

Bruce, on the other hand, looked far more at ease.

As for Professor Sprout, not only could she boil seven Cauldrons at once, she still had plenty of time to guide Sean.

"Watch the slime, wait for the bubbles..."

Sean muttered the techniques the professor had taught him as he carefully worked.

As time slowly passed, Sean gradually became more skilled at boiling, though he still could not avoid getting a little flustered.

The liquid in the Cauldron gradually turned ink green, and Professor Sprout stepped forward.

Sean gripped his spoon tightly, waiting for the professor's evaluation.

He was a little nervous, partly because of his poor talent and partly because he felt sorry for the ingredients.

Horned Slugs were not cheap. In Diagon Alley, a jar cost one Gold Galleon.

The prices of ingredients in the Magical World were always terrifyingly high.

It made Sean realize one thing: potions had to be hugely profitable, or no one would be able to afford the ingredients.

Very soon, Professor Sprout gave her assessment:

"Mr. Green, an acceptable job."

Sean let out a small sigh of relief. Although Professor Sprout had told them to use the materials as they pleased, he could not keep wasting them.

Once he got into the rhythm, Sean finished handling the Horned Slugs in no time.

The three of them poured the boiled liquid into Glass Bottles, then selected the slugs with enough slime and placed them in a large jar.

Professor Sprout said

that this selection would help increase the Young Wizards' chances of successfully brewing Scurvy Paste.

As for the boiled slugs, they would be kept as demonstration examples,

and would also help Professor Snape with some of the preliminary work.

While selecting Porcupine Quills,

Professor Sprout also revealed something Sean found surprising.

"Yes, children, herbs and potions have always depended on one another.

Whenever harvest season comes around, Severus always visits the Greenhouse as well."

Sean imagined Professor Snape holding a hoe, then continued selecting Porcupine Quills.

"Porcupine Quills should be about three inches long and roughly as thick as two slug tentacles..."

As he left the Greenhouse, Sean reviewed the key points of the process and recorded them all on the Parchment he carried with him.

By now, Sean had gained a deep understanding of the four ingredients for Scurvy Paste:

Dried Nettle, Porcupine Quills, Viper Fangs, and Horned Slugs. This meant the first step of his plan was complete.

At the thought of this, Sean's eyes shone ever brighter.

"I say, Sean, we've already left the Greenhouse. There's no need to write it all down again, right?"

Bruce folded his arms and helplessly pulled Sean away,

preventing the overly focused boy from walking into a suit of armor.

On the suit of armor,

a lady in a ceremonial gown covered her mouth and smiled, leaving the knight opposite her staring in a daze.

The clock pointed to six.

The breeze was gentle.

Along the path slanting beneath the warm sunlight,

Sean heard the bells of Hogwarts ring.

Bruce stopped walking.

In the corridor beside the Greenhouse,

Leon held a book, his golden hair gleaming in the warm sunlight, while Pist held a potted plant, its tender leaves swaying in the breeze.

The two of them turned their gazes toward Bruce.

Bruce grinned.

"These two guys..."

He turned back to say goodbye to Sean,

but before he could speak, a piece of Candied Pineapple was placed in his hand.

"Trading snacks is a Hufflepuff tradition, Bruce."

By the time he came back to himself, Sean had already skipped away.

"Is he really not a Hufflepuff?"

Leon closed his book.

"Maybe the Sorting Hat made a mistake."

Bruce carefully put away the candied fruit,

then suddenly shouted, "Hey!" and threw out both arms, scooping Leon and Pist in.

His strong arms looped around their necks like a warm lock, firmly trapping all three heads together.

"Wide open!"

He laughed loudly.

"Idiot."

Leon stumbled.

Pist carefully protected his potted plant.

Ever since borrowing enough books from the Library yesterday, Sean's only problem had been that he did not have enough time to finish his homework.

At eight o'clock, the Hogwarts Library would close,

and by the time Sean finished dinner, it was already six thirty.

Therefore, Sean did not choose to go to the Library and instead returned directly to Ravenclaw Tower.

The Ravenclaw double rooms had desks, and even thoughtfully came equipped with floating candles.

Yes, the same kind as the candles in the Great Hall.

It was obviously a great place to finish homework.

The wisdom of Ravenclaw, Sean thought.

"Sean, are you heading back to the tower?"

At the entrance to the Great Hall, Sean ran into Michael, who was playing Wizard's Chess.

"Mm."

Sean nodded.

"Oh! Wait for me!"

Michael quickly made his move. His Wizard's Chess piece swung its club and knocked the opposing Young Wizard's final piece flying.

"A narrow victory."

Michael smiled as he put away the pieces, then ran over to Sean.

The stairs back to Ravenclaw were still terrifyingly long.

Michael panted as he climbed, complaining as he went:

"The welcome speech said Ravenclaw would help Young Wizards eager for knowledge climb the steps of wisdom,

but it never said the steps would be this long!"

Michael raised his head. Before him stretched a staircase with no end in sight.

"Merlin's beard... I have to climb stairs like this for seven years?"

Before he could finish speaking, a powerful gust of wind swept past.

It turned out to be an older Ravenclaw student riding a broomstick into the tower.

The sight drew cries of amazement from the younger Ravenclaws nearby.

"So cool!"

Michael stared fixedly at the elegant Wizard, his own heart burning with excitement.

Step by step, the remaining stairs dwindled, and Sean and Michael were finally about to arrive.

"...Perhaps many people believe that the glorious era of the Chudley Cannons has ended, but everyone knows they will recreate their former glory..."

By then, Michael's complaints had turned into longing for Quidditch.

He was about to continue recounting the glorious history of the Chudley Cannons,

when he noticed the unsteady Young Wizard beside him first.

"Sean!"