"Lovers" Quarrel, Brook Suffers

Chapter 20: "Young Couple" Quarrel, Brook Suffers

Brook didn't go to the second part of the Dark Arts class.

Professor Quirrell showed no reaction—probably because he hadn't taken attendance, so he didn't even know Brook was absent.

But Hermione couldn't let it slide.

What kind of behavior was skipping class?

It was practically a world-shattering catastrophe.

With S3 activated, everyone was tossing around "Big Gudu" everywhere.

She rattled off a torrent of criticism at Brook.

As if he'd committed some unforgivable crime.

Brook, on the other hand, was all smiles.

To be honest, Hermione like this was pretty amusing.

Still, to prevent Hermione from tattling (she'd done plenty of that to teachers), he invited her to the library.

For Hermione, no problem couldn't be solved with one trip to the library.

If that didn't work, two would do.

Brook was actually quite interested in Hogwarts' library himself.

In his past life, there was a saying that stuck with him.

Your college professor might be the most impressive person you'll ever meet.

And the books in a college library might be your biggest chance to expand your knowledge.

Many of those books were rare treasures you'd never see or buy on the open market.

The History of Magic lecturer was a ghost named Bins.

Professor Bins not only read straight from the textbook, but his voice had zero inflection.

Even Brook, who loved studying history, found himself nodding off.

He could only keep himself barely awake by twirling his wand.

That was about as much respect as he could muster for history.

But that respect probably wouldn't last long.

On Wednesday evening, they had an Astronomy class.

It was also their only evening class of the week.

Brook hadn't seen the stars in years, so he had a good impression of Astronomy.

On the Astronomy Tower, with a cool breeze carrying a hint of chill, he gazed at the vast, boundless starry sky.

For a moment, he felt his soul being cleansed.

Friday only had one big class—a double period of Potions.

In the afternoon, they were heading to the library.

Dinner was set at Hagrid's.

At breakfast, Brook received a note from Hagrid.

Hagrid had gotten a bunch of vegetable seeds, along with quite a few Billywigs and a Quintaped.

Seeing the name "Billywig," Brook's mouth started watering, and even the bread in his mouth seemed tastier.

Last night in the library, he'd happened to find a copy of the Asian Antidote Encyclopedia.

It included an entry on the Billywig.

This insect contained a venom that, when stung, made people dizzy and then float up unsteadily.

But once the venom gland and stinger were removed, the bugs could be fried or pickled.

If Hagrid were there, he'd definitely shout one thing.

"Hagrid gets me. ε٩(๑＞ ₃ ＜)۶з"

As for the Quintaped, he'd never seen one, so he planned to flip through the Asian Antidote Encyclopedia later to see if there was any info on it.

The Potions classroom was located in the dungeons.

Neatly arranged on the walls were many glass jars, filled with all sorts of strange animal specimens.

The Potions professor was the head of Slytherin—Severus Snape.

The guy known for being extremely harsh to Harry, though really, he was harsh to everyone.

"Potion-making is a precise science and a strict craft... I can teach you how to boost fame, brew glory, and even stop death—but only if you're not the kind of fool whose mind is full of Cogon grass."

Though Snape's tone was cold and devoid of emotion, the rhythm and cadence of his words carried real presence.

But Snape's fire was clearly aimed at Harry.

"Potter!" he suddenly called out.

"If I add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, what would I get?"

Harry was completely stunned. What was that supposed to mean?

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How would he know?

"I... I don't know, Professor."

"Tsk, tsk... It seems fame isn't everything." Snape curled his lip contemptuously. "Where would you find a bezoar?"

"I don't know, Professor."

"Potter, what's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione stood up and raised her hand, shooting it straight into the air.

Brook rolled his eyes helplessly.

He directly pulled Hermione's hand down and pressed her back into her seat.

With Snape's tone, this was clearly a "lovers' quarrel."

Why was she butting in? She'd better watch out or she'd get burned.

Just as Hermione looked at Brook in confusion, she heard Snape say, "Lott, you answer."

Brook was a bit stunned.

How did the gossip land on him?

But since Snape had asked, he had no choice but to reluctantly answer.

"Asphodel root and wormwood can make the Draught of Peace. A bezoar is a stone from a goat's stomach that has detoxifying and calming effects. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they're both aconite—no difference."

Luckily, Snape had only asked about things from the first few pages of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, or he wouldn't have known.

Snape gave Brook a long, hard look. "Sit down."

Potions class continued.

Snape began teaching them to brew a potion for treating boils.

He swept around the classroom like a giant bat, his long cloak trailing behind him.

The pressure in the room kept dropping.

Forget whispering—even when crushing snake fangs, the young witches and wizards instinctively moved more softly, trying not to make too much noise.

Brook didn't pay much attention to that. He followed the steps written on the blackboard.

Snape's steps were slightly different from the book's.

But he trusted Snape's method would be better.

Hermione was in charge of weighing and brewing.

It was a real case of men and women working together without getting tired.

The boil-curing potion quickly took shape.

Snape circled them three times without finding a chance to spray venom.

Just as they were about to finish, a loud "bang" suddenly rang out in the classroom.

Neville had burned through his cauldron, and purple potion splattered everywhere.

Brook cast an Engorgement Charm directly, making his textbook ten times larger, like a shield that blocked him and Hermione completely.

Snape shot Brook a surprised glance but said nothing, striding over to Neville to clean up the mess.

By then, Neville's body was soaked in the potion, and boils broke out all over him, making him howl in pain.

The young witches and wizards around him were more or less splashed, breaking out in boils too.

"Did you forget to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills?"

Snape felt his blood pressure slipping out of control.

In all his years of teaching, this was the first time he'd seen someone blow up a cauldron.

"You two, take him to the hospital wing."

"Potter, why didn't you warn him? To show off your own brilliance with his stupidity? Gryffindor loses one point."

Snape said coldly.

An hour later, Potions class finally ended.

Everyone bottled their brewed potion and handed it in one by one at the podium.

Snape's mouth was a bit like Hermione's.

He clearly meant well for the other person, but he had to phrase everything so venomously.

He critiqued every single potion, pointing out their flaws.

Take Harry and Ron's, for instance.

"What is this rubbish, Scab Cure Potion? Are your eyes just for breathing? How much stinging nettle did you put in? Are you trying to make someone itch to death?"

As for the Scab Cure Potion completed by Brook and Hermione, Snape only gave it a glance before setting it aside.

He marked an "O" behind their classwork grade.

(Readers with the image, go ahead and post it. Severus Snape deserves it.)

(Anti-Quibbler: In the first book, Snape asked about bezoar, but in the sixth book, it was changed to goat stone.)

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