"Good answer. It seems Mr. Granger really does know the textbook quite well..."
"Don't rush, Professor. I haven't even finished answering the question yet." Harry suddenly spoke up, cutting off Snape's performative praise. "The textbook's description of bezoars is actually inaccurate!"
"Oh? Then I'm all ears. What other great insight does Mr. Granger have to share?"
Snape gradually dropped his contemptuous attitude. Bezoars were an extremely important ingredient to him, so he cared very much about what error Harry had found.
"The goat mentioned in the textbook is actually a domestic goat, a type of livestock that's now widely raised around the world. The stones taken from its stomach have a specific name: bezoar stones. They're used to treat stomach ailments, not to counteract every poison, so they aren't bezoars."
"True bezoars should be stones taken from the stomachs of wild goats. Those are the ones that can effectively counteract poison. By the way, gallstones taken from cattle can also have the same effect as bezoars."
"This..."
Watching Harry speak so fluently and confidently before him, Snape was momentarily stunned.
That little brat... That air of confidence, almost exactly like Lily's when she was in Potions Class. And he still dared to say it wasn't talent?!
"Harry... that's enough, don't you think?" Beside him, Hermione tugged at his sleeve, looking conflicted.
There he went again~
Hermione had noticed that Harry, who had been quite low-key in the ordinary world, had developed a very strange quirk since coming to the Wizarding World: he couldn't stand seeing someone show off in front of him.
Not long ago, Ollivander, who fancied himself the descendant of a wealthy merchant and a wandmaker from a thousand-year-old business, had been given a thorough lesson in "history" by Harry.
And now... Professor Snape had become another victim felled by "science."
"Granger... where did you learn all this?" Snape asked, his gaze unfocused. Harry's performance had left him somewhat dazed.
"My parents taught me. They're both doctors."
Harry's utterly unprepared blather made Hermione roll her eyes.
If her father and mother really knew all this "science" nonsense, Hermione Granger would even be willing to drop out on the spot!
Snape, too, didn't believe a word of Harry's off-the-cuff explanation.
He had fallen into a peculiar kind of obsession, stubbornly convinced that Harry's astonishing talent for Potions had to be inherited from his mother, Lily...
"Evans... can you tell me what the difference is between wolfsbane and monkshood?" After a long pause, Snape asked in a hoarse voice.
"They're both aconites... um~" Harry patiently continued answering, then suddenly realized that Snape's questions seemed to be taking a different turn.
Harry was very good at noticing details. From just now, Snape's tone and expression—and, most importantly, the way he addressed Harry—had all changed, subtly or conspicuously.
So the real meaning behind that last question had to be...
"Answer one last question for me, Evans... What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Snape stared blankly into Harry's eyes, not even seeming willing to blink.
But once Harry figured out what these questions really meant, his expression grew increasingly conflicted.
Snape... so the guy was a sentimental old romantic after all.
Harry wasn't unfamiliar with Snape. After all, when he was three months old, he had witnessed Snape holding his mother Lily's corpse and sobbing uncontrollably.
Harry's English hadn't been as good back then as it was now, but from Snape's behavior alone, it was obvious that the guy had harbored improper feelings for his mother.
So just now, Snape had clearly been possessed by his inner romantic. He'd subconsciously mistaken Harry for the deceased Lily and started using the language of flowers to express his feelings.
The people of Britain cared far more about the language of flowers than the people of the Great Celestial Empire in Harry's previous life. As it happened, Mrs. Granger also enjoyed tending to plants, so Harry had learned a thing or two about the subject to please her.
The meanings associated with aconites were complicated. Snape had deliberately chosen the names monkshood and wolfsbane, which meant he was referring to different people and different emotions.
The former represented remembrance and respect for Harry's mother, Lily Evans; the latter, hatred of himself, pessimism, weariness of life, and suspicion.
As for his last question, it was an unconscious confession—or perhaps a declaration of love—after he mistook Harry for the late Lily!
Daffodils belonged to the lily family, and a lily was, of course, a Lily. It represented a feeling so powerful it would be remembered even beyond death. Wormwood, meanwhile, signified the sorrow of someone's absence, as well as bitter grief.
So the answer to the last question wasn't the Draught of Living Death from Potions, but...
"My remorse and regret will follow you to the grave!"
Thinking of how Snape had just called him "Evans," Harry suddenly got goosebumps.
Did the guy really think he couldn't tell?
Confessing his feelings to someone's mother right in front of her son...
But once Harry had thought it through, his expression gradually turned solemn.
"That would only leave you with regret, Professor... regret you could never convey to the dead!" After a long silence, Harry gritted his teeth and gave an answer that was realistic to the point of being heartless!
He turned his head toward Hermione, unwilling to keep looking at Snape. "Also... stop calling me by my middle name!!"
"You?!" Snape's body swayed slightly. The next second, his eyes regained their usual coldness.
"Class dismissed!!"
He gave Harry a long, deep look, then turned and swept away, leaving behind a sharp, almost anguished roar...
(p.s. In the original English edition of HP, the goat Snape mentions really is a goat, meaning a domestic goat. But in fact, the bezoar should come from an ibex, a wild goat. Also, the initial translation of bezoar as ox bezoar by the People's Literature Publishing House was actually correct, but ox bezoar is a gallstone, not a stomach stone. So if you want ox bezoar, it's best to look in a cow's gallbladder, not its stomach. That's all~)
### Gringotts Had Been Broken Into Early
On the weekend of their first week at school, Harry accepted Hagrid's invitation and brought Hermione to his hut.
Hagrid was concerned about how Harry had been doing that week, and Harry happened to have something to discuss with him, so the two hit it off.
Naturally, Harry had brought Hagrid a surprise, too.
"Delicious! This 'hot pot' stuff is amazing, though those two sticks are really hard to use. A spoon's much easier~"
Holding an enormous spoon, Hagrid scooped a generous helping of hot pot ingredients into his bowl and slurped them down with the broth.
Faced with such table manners, Harry could only smile to himself.
Like Filch, Hagrid couldn't use chopsticks. He simply held his bowl in one hand and used a spoon to scoop up the food and broth with the other, turning a perfectly good hot pot meal into spicy soup.
But unlike Filch, whose pronunciation of the Great Celestial Empire's language had never improved, Hagrid had at least made some progress.
"By the way... Harry, are you really planning to keep living with Filch?" Even as he devoured the food, Hagrid didn't forget to look out for Harry. "Filch isn't the friendliest person. I hope he hasn't been giving you too much grief~"
"It's all right," Harry said with a reassuring smile. "Mr. Filch is just a bit stern, but he's actually a very nice person. His pet, Mrs. Norris, is friendly too. We get along great."
"Well, as long as you think so." Hagrid shrugged without committing himself.
Hagrid didn't want to comment too much on whether Filch was a good person, but as far as he was concerned, Mrs. Norris was definitely a nasty cat!
Every time he entered the castle, that bug-eyed cat would watch him from behind like she was keeping an eye on a thief. It drove him up the wall!
Noticing the corner of Hagrid's mouth twitch upward, Harry just smiled and said nothing.
There was a knack to getting along with people. Harry only needed to keep Hagrid from worrying too much about him; he didn't need to force the idea that "Filch is a good person" on him.
Besides, whenever Filch came up, Harry mostly felt frustrated these days.
After a week of covert maneuvering since the start of term, Harry had to admit that Dumbledore had ultimately outsmarted him.
On the day of the Sorting Ceremony, Harry had already decided that if old Dumbledore really did come up with some kind of dungeon prison to lock him in, he'd find a chance to start trouble and unleash his Obscurus to tear the school apart. Then nobody would get any peace.
But old Dumbledore had dumped him on Filch instead—a seemingly nasty and unpleasant caretaker who was actually part of a vulnerable group—leaving Harry with a bellyful of anger and nowhere to vent it.
The next day, when Harry continued causing trouble around the school and considered high-impact plans like tearing the place down, setting it on fire, or blowing it up, Peeves had shown up to pick a fight at a ridiculously convenient moment.
Between Peeves' actions and Professor McGonagall's attitude, Harry had successfully figured out the equation "damaging school property = Filch gets saddled with more work." And so, all his ingenious plans went up in smoke.
Just like that, he'd been held in check.
One had to stand by one's principles, and Harry would never bully his classmates the way Malfoy did. He also didn't want to make Filch's workload heavier for no reason... Besides, even if he really did blow up the school, that didn't necessarily mean old Dumbledore would expel him.
Of course, Harry was even less likely to sneak into an aviary, steal an owl, and make soup with it.
After all, we foodies from the Great Celestial Empire have things we'll eat and things we won't—and wild game and protected animals are absolutely off the menu~
All in all, Harry figured Dumbledore had seen through him from the start. That was why he'd used Filch and Peeves to set one trap after another!
That old fox knew Harry wouldn't violate Hogwarts' rules, so he'd used Harry's principles to keep his mischief within controllable limits.
Within those limits, the only thing Harry could do was go after Malfoy, the school's resident troublemaker... but Malfoy had also gone and chickened out lately~
No... he had to find a way to make a big scene. He couldn't just let old Dumbledore keep him penned in like this!
But before that, he did have some thanks to express.
"Hagrid, can I chop some of the wood near your hut? I've got a little project to work on." After the three of them had eaten their fill, Harry made Hagrid an unusual request.
"Chop wood... for a project? All right. If you really want to, I suppose I can let you. How could I refuse a request from Harry?" Hagrid nodded with a sheepish grin. "But that sort of hard work is tiring, so I'll do it."
After putting on his coat, Hagrid took the saw and axe he used for chopping wood, along with his umbrella, and went out to gather some wood for Harry.
"What do you need the wood for? It's not another one of your crazy schemes, is it?" Hermione asked suspiciously after Hagrid had left.
"Don't worry. This time it's definitely for a good cause~" Harry explained with a grin. "I'm going to make something useful for our Head of House. When it's done... hm? Is this the Daily Prophet?"
Glancing down, Harry spotted a clipping from the Daily Prophet under Hagrid's teapot.
"Report on the Gringotts break-in: Our reporter Rita Skeeter's latest exclusive. At noon on July 31, Gringotts was illegally broken into. The intruder opened a certain vault before escaping. Gringotts, however, has done everything in its power to suppress the incident and has made no public announcement of any theft. Whether this incident was the work of the unknown Dark wizard mentioned in rumors or an inside job at Gringotts remains unclear..."
Harry took the article seriously, because if it was true, it meant that when the three of them had arrived at Gringotts on July 31, the break-in had happened only a short time earlier!
So the vault that had been broken into was...
Thinking of this, Harry couldn't help recalling the oddly limp pouch Hagrid had taken earlier.
If the stolen vault was Vault 713, did that mean the intruder had already beaten them to it and switched out whatever was inside?
But if so, why hadn't Hagrid questioned it on the spot?
Or perhaps Hagrid had no idea what was inside the pouch. Maybe he'd only gone to retrieve it?
So was the Sorcerer's Stone now in Dumbledore's hands, as in the original story, or had Voldemort already gotten it?
Suddenly, Harry felt the scar on his forehead begin to ache faintly...
"Harry, I've got the wood you wanted!" Hagrid's voice came from outside the door, jolting Harry back to his senses.
"All right, I'm going out to work." Harry casually put down the clipping, collected himself, and called Hermione to come outside with him.
"So... what are you planning to make?" Hermione asked, still completely baffled as she looked at the pile of assorted timber outside, all in different lengths.
Harry had said it was something Professor Flitwick could use, but Hermione couldn't imagine what the professor might need.
"Secret. You'll find out when it's done~"
A smile that said "I can't tell you" was on Harry's face.
Chapter Forty-Four: Flight Class Could Be Put to Use
After the weekend, when they had Charms Class again, the moment the diminutive Professor Flitwick entered the classroom, he was stunned by what he saw.
The old books that had been stacked under the lectern to give him a boost had been moved aside. In their place was a platform that was clearly quite a bit higher.
"This... this is simply incredible! Oh, Merlin, who was so kind as to make this for me?!"
Professor Flitwick excitedly circled the lectern, inspecting it carefully, afraid he might miss even the smallest detail.
The new wooden platform covered almost the entire teaching area outside the lectern. Its edges had been made into steps, making it easy to get on and off from any side.
A small chair of just the right height had also been placed near the lectern. Someone had thoughtfully covered it with a soft fur cushion; it was sure to be very comfortable.
The whole platform had been painted a color similar to the classroom's original platform, so it didn't look out of place at all.
Professor Flitwick curiously stepped onto it to try it out. It was exactly as high as the stack of books he'd used before, but gave him several times the room to move around. His face lit up with a smile, his wrinkles blooming.
"Wishing you many happy lessons. From Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid~"
Professor Flitwick spotted those words on the back of the chair and turned to Harry in delighted surprise.
Harry only nodded with a smile, though. He didn't say anything to claim credit.
This raised platform and chair were the "project" he'd worked on at Hagrid's. It had taken nearly the entire weekend for all three of them to make.
Harry had wanted to thank Professor Flitwick for the kindness and care he'd shown him.
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