A Teaching Level That's Hard to Put into Words

In the staff room, Filch frowned as he handed over the bandages.

"Maybe you should go see Pomfrey?"

"No need, just a minor injury." Taking the bandages, Snape said casually.

"It doesn't look like it." Filch stared at the bloody, slightly blackened wound. "What the hell did you run into? Something that could hurt you this badly—I thought nothing in Hogwarts could do that."

"Nothing, just a dog." As the bandage tightened around his leg, a sharp pain shot through him, and Snape cursed. "Damn thing, how were you supposed to keep an eye on three heads at once?"

"What do you mean?" Filch asked, confused.

But Snape didn't answer. His pure black eyes, set above his hooked nose, suddenly snapped toward the door like a viper.

"Potter!"

As he shouted, he quickly pulled his robes down to cover his injured leg.

Harry saw with his own eyes that Snape's face was twisted with rage.

He glanced at Glenn beside him. Though he was still a bit out of breath, having someone with him restored some of his courage.

Taking a deep breath, Harry steeled himself and spoke. "I wanted to know if I could get my book back."

"Get out! Out!"

"Okay."

Harry immediately stepped back, out of Snape's sight.

It had nothing to do with backbone. A student talking back to a professor was a huge taboo, especially in a situation like this.

He had no doubt that if he'd stayed even a second longer, Snape would have made up some excuse to dock Gryffindor a hefty few dozen points.

Harry moved fast, smoothly falling into the starting stance for a getaway—something he'd practiced plenty at his aunt's house.

"Let's go..." he started to warn Glenn that Snape would come charging out to dock points.

But then he thought, Snape couldn't dock points from his own house, could he?

At least, he hadn't seen it happen since school started...

"Go on, I'll get your book." Glenn waved a hand.

"Thanks." Leaving that behind, Harry didn't hesitate and bolted.

To be fair, the new Quidditch player definitely had some athletic talent.

By the time Snape angrily limped out the door, Harry was already out of sight.

"Runs fast, just like his wretched father." Snape snorted coldly with disgust, as if stirring up some unpleasant memories.

First bitten by a dog, then interrupted by Potter, and now he still had to brew some antidotes and healing potions—a tangled mess that left the professor in a foul mood.

"Mr. Howard, what are you here for? If I'm not mistaken, Curfew is almost upon us, isn't it?" Snape asked in his usual icy tone.

Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, followed him out, eyeing the recently famous student with ill intent.

Though Filch got along best with Snape among all the Heads of Houses, he never went easy on catching students breaking rules and making them pay.

It was both his duty and his pleasure.

Facing two pairs of eyes at once, Glenn remained calm.

"I came to ask for your advice."

Snape's bad mood eased slightly, but his tone was still cold. "It's too late now. Some other day."

With that, he turned to leave, but before he went, he thought better of it and asked, "What did you want to ask about?"

"The healing potion you mentioned in class." Glenn pulled a small box from a hidden pocket in his robes—through the transparent glass, it was filled with White Fresh leaves.

Perhaps because they'd been bathed in moonlight every day, the leaves shimmered with a faint, silvery glow.

"I grew some White Fresh. Professor Sprout suggested I turn it into a potion while its potency is at its peak."

Hearing this, Snape seemed a bit interested. He looked Glenn over, then the White Fresh leaves.

After a moment, he said flatly, "Then let's get to it."

He headed toward the Potions classroom.

"Remember to be back in your common room before Curfew, or you know the consequences..." Filch warned quietly as Glenn followed.

But not far along, just around a corner where Filch couldn't hear, Snape added another line.

"Don't worry about him. If you get caught, just say my name."

"Alright."

The Potions classroom was deep in the dungeons.

Pushing open the door, a cauldron was already bubbling furiously inside, a pungent smell hitting them.

Snape drew his wand, tapped the cauldron a few times, and the Bronze Stirring Rod on the lectern flew over, stirring the liquid inside in a certain pattern.

"Sit in the front row."

After Glenn settled into the frontmost seat, Snape began his lesson.

About half an hour later, Professor Snape stopped writing on the board.

The stone blackboard was already covered in dense, meticulous steps.

"A potion brewed by mixing White Fresh with Horklump Juice is called the Invigorating Potion. Its preparation method isn't difficult—I imagine any student who paid even a little attention could follow the steps and produce it." Snape turned around, looking at Glenn.

"So, Mr. Howard, did you understand?"

Glenn hesitated for a moment, then nodded solemnly.

Of course, this solemnity wasn't about pretending to understand what he didn't.

As for the Invigorating Potion, Glenn had already memorized this brewing method down to his bones a century ago. After thousands upon thousands of refinements, he could even make deeper improvements on the original process.

So Snape's lecture was just going through the motions—even if he didn't listen at all, it wouldn't be much of a problem.

But out of respect for the professor, Glenn still listened to Snape's entire lesson attentively and thoroughly—and then, he noticed a problem.

Could any student really understand his teaching without a foundation?

From the details, Glenn could tell that Professor Snape's potion-making skill was quite high, with unique insights of his own.

But when it came to teaching ability... that was a different story.

No joke—for a moment, Glenn even wondered if he had been exposed.

But then he thought again: right now, he was genuinely eleven years old and hadn't done anything out of line yet. How could there be any risk of exposure?

Yet when he met the Potions professor's gaze, from those serious eyes, Glenn understood—maybe Professor Snape was just purely bad at explaining things.

"Very good, Glenn. It seems you have some talent after all." A rare hint of approval flickered in Snape's black eyes.

"On the left side of the classroom, second row, third column, there should be some Horklump Juice left. Make it for me."