Shattered on the Ground (Seeking Follow-ups)

This was Harry's first time in Snape's office.

It was underground, dim, and gloomy, permeated with the heavy scent of herbs, with row upon row of cabinets filled with countless glass jars containing specimens.

Yet, there was no trace of a personal life to be seen; even Professor Binns's office felt more lived-in than this.

Not even a single photograph.

"Keep your filthy eyes to yourself!" Snape snapped, drawing his wand and pointing it at Harry. "Potter, I believe I find it necessary to remind you."

"When you return, do not think of seeking out Evans—oh, I suppose I must call her Mrs. Dursley now—and do not think of prying into my past!"

Harry laughed. "Is the Professor so concerned with Aunt Petunia's life? You even know exactly who she married."

"I had thought the worlds of wizards and Muggles were completely isolated."

Snape leveled his wand at Harry's forehead. "Remember my words."

Harry shrugged, noncommittal.

"Now, the assessment begins." Snape glanced at the clock on his desk. "You have three hours until dinner; brew this potion, and you shall pass."

He flicked his wand.

A piece of parchment and a quill flew over, scratching out a long string of text before landing in Harry's hand.

"Healing Potion."

Snape had mentioned it in class; it was the most important topic for third years, a potion one must master if one intended to work at St. Mungo's.

"Evening Primrose, Wormwood..."

Common herbs with significant healing properties.

And the two most important magical ingredients.

"Horklump, Unicorn horn."

This potion was not particularly difficult for Harry—provided the measurements were listed.

"Professor, is something missing..." Harry asked, frowning.

Snape sneered. "Only the most foolish potioneers rely entirely on what is written in books. Every potion brewed is unique."

"I believe I have mentioned that countless times in class, ad nauseam."

"Are your ears merely trumpets, letting everything in one side and out the other?"

"You have three hours—oh, make that two hours and fifty minutes. The ingredients are in the cabinet over there; I will allow you to borrow my cauldron."

Harry nodded and set to work.

Brewing a potion was essentially the use of magic to harmonize the properties of ingredients, causing them to transform. The textbook provided the most standard, foolproof recipe, but that did not mean it was the best.

Everyone's magic was different, and the amount of ingredients used required subtle adjustments.

Just as Snape had said in the first lesson of the term—this was a "subtle science."

The first hurdle was selecting the appropriate herbs.

Snape had deliberately mixed some herbs together; for instance, he had hidden some Oenothera among the Evening Primrose. They looked very similar, but the main difference was that Evening Primrose had a single layer of petals, while Oenothera had two.

What Harry found a pity was that Snape hadn't mixed the Unicorn horn with Bicorn horn.

Didn't he think those two materials were truly similar?

Many wizards could not tell the horns apart.

As a holy creature, the Unicorn's horn naturally possessed a sense of sanctity, yet it did not have the medicinal properties of "healing" or "curing"; it only possessed the power of "purification" and "dispelling."

The Horklump was a magical creature with almost no lethality.

But it was very difficult to kill.

Housewives viewed it as nothing more than garden-variety filth, like a gnome, only good for taking up space in the garden.

It was one of the ingredients often used in healing potions, but... it was also frequently used to create weed-killing potions.

Its blood, or rather its juice, was toxic.

The Unicorn horn was used precisely to neutralize this toxicity...

Harry gradually formed an idea of how to brew the potion, and then it was time to officially begin.

The three hours were tight, and Harry had to slowly test the degree of compatibility between the ingredients. It wasn't until the final moment that a pot of bright red potion was finally brewed.

Harry poured it into a round-bottomed flask and placed it before Snape.

"Cutting it close. Should I be glad you finished on time, or glad you didn't blow up my cauldron?" Snape sneered, picking up the vial and sniffing it with a flutter of his robes.

"You used so much Evening Primrose—do you think the patient isn't bleeding fast enough and wanted to give them a boost?"

"The concoction of Horklump juice and Unicorn horn is passable; the ratio is acceptable, at least it won't kill anyone who drinks it."

"I suppose you pass, barely—slightly better than a Troll."

Harry nodded: "Thank you, Professor. Perhaps you should be more candid."

"Are you lecturing me?" Snape narrowed his eyes.

Harry shook his head: "No, just a most sincere piece of advice."

Snape said nothing, pulling open the bottom drawer with a swift motion—he took out a notebook, and with a snap, slammed it shut again.

But Harry had already seen it.

A photograph, aged but preserved with great care.

A woman with red hair and green eyes, not very old, only fourteen or fifteen, smiling very sweetly. She remained motionless; only the wind moved and the clouds drifted within the frame.

He had never seen the woman look like this, and she bore no resemblance to Aunt Petunia, yet he recognized her instantly: this was his mother.

"Take it!" Harry had never seen Snape so gentle—in tone, in movement, in his gaze.

He placed the notebook softly on the table.

In a voice devoid of any malice, he said quietly: "This is the first volume of your mother's notes. During the summer holidays, study the contents well."

"Evans was a witch highly skilled in Potions. She was much smarter than you, and far more talented."

"Do not defile it!"

Snape slowly moved his hand away, bit by bit, tracing the cover, the spine, and finally the corner of the book, before pulling his hand away with a final, lingering touch.

Harry hesitated.

After a long moment, he spoke tentatively: "Professor, if you want to cry, I can borrow a wig from a senior student and wear the sunglasses you gave me..."

Snape drew his wand without hesitation.

No incantation was spoken, only a surge of magic.

Harry dodged nimbly; the silent spell flew past his scalp, striking a glass specimen jar on the cabinet behind him.

Crash—

The glass bottle overturned, its lid hitting the floor and shattering into pieces. The specimen inside, a dead, greenish heart, landed heavily, pierced by the shards. It bled no blood, only a pungent medicinal liquid that pooled across the floor.

"Take the notebook and get out!" Snape gritted his teeth, slamming the table hard. "Otherwise, I shall make you test the potions you brew yourself!"

Harry picked up the notebook solemnly, stuffed the Healing Potion into his hat, and turned to leave without delay.

Just as he stepped out the door, he suddenly turned back, poking his head in with a serious expression: "Professor, I mean it, a very sincere—"

He could not finish his sentence.

A spell shot toward him.

It slammed into the door, carving a deep, jagged mark.

Harry scurried away.

Men, why can they never be more candid?

Gryffindor common room.

Ron and Hermione were too anxious to sit still, pacing back and forth incessantly; even the Weasley twins dared not provoke them at this moment.

Every time someone climbed through the portrait hole, they looked over expectantly, only to sigh heavily and resume pacing when they saw it wasn't Harry.

One person, two people, three people...

Until the sky gradually turned dark.

They finally waited for the person they had been expecting.

"Harry, you're finally back." Hermione let out a breath. "You know I was worried to death!"

"Professor McGonagall sent someone to the Hospital Wing, and I thought it was you..."

"Are you hurt?"

Harry waved his hand, his tone relaxed: "Don't worry, I'm fine. Have you eaten?"

"Not yet." Ron shook his head—he had been so anxious he hadn't even thought about food.

Harry reached into his hat and pulled out some muffins and cakes: "I brought these from the Great Hall; I intended to have them as a midnight snack."

"So... you didn't come back right away because you went to eat?" Hermione took the cake, her tone resentful.

Did he know how long she had been pacing, waiting for him?!

Ron munched on a muffin: "You didn't even call me when you went to eat!"

Was the point really about eating?

Hermione glared at him fiercely, though Ron's mind was currently occupied entirely by the muffin, lamenting that it would be better with more honey.

"Professor Snape took me to take a test." Harry said innocently. "It happened to be mealtime when I reached the Great Hall, so I just grabbed a bite."

Hermione nodded, thinking that no matter how hungry one was, one shouldn't be like Ron. She flicked her wand, transfiguring a quill into a spoon, and began to eat in small bites: "What other tests did Professor Snape have?"

"He had my mother's potion notes, and I had to pass a test to get them back," Harry replied.

"Notes!" At the mention of this, Hermione's eyes lit up. "Can I take a look?"

Harry nodded in agreement, "Of course."

With exam week over, the young wizards welcomed the most relaxing period of their time at school.

Harry also entered his most liberated period.

During the day, he would read his mother's notes in the common room with Hermione; just as Snape had said, his mother was incredibly gifted at Potions.

Certain perspectives on potions and reflections on various theories allowed many of the doubts in Harry's mind to be resolved with ease.

This left Hermione feeling somewhat frustrated.

She would read the notes and find many parts completely baffling—they had all been studying magic for a year, so how could the gap between them be so vast?

At night, Harry would drape his Invisibility Cloak over himself to evade Snape's patrols and head toward the Forbidden Forest.

Occasionally, he would also visit Hagrid to see what other materials he could scavenge.

The matter of the dragon egg had been resolved by Dumbledore, and while Hagrid hadn't faced any punishment, he was still weeping—he couldn't keep the dragon, not even if he hid it in the Forbidden Forest.

It had been sent to a wizard named Newt Scamander.

Harry was very familiar with that name; almost every book he had seen regarding magical creatures bore this wizard's signature.

He felt a bit disappointed; it seemed it would be difficult for him to obtain dragon materials in the future.

During the final week of the term.

Harry still hadn't managed to catch the Bicorn, but the good news was that the activity range circled on the map was getting smaller and smaller; perhaps next semester, it wouldn't even take a month for him to get what he wanted.

If only...

If there were a way to get his hands on this thing during the summer break, that would be wonderful.

The last day of the school year.

The air was filled with the cheerful atmosphere of the upcoming holiday.

Thanks to Guanshan Nanyue for the tip.

Thanks to Fengze Zhixi and the friend with the user ID ending in 4335 for the tips!

Continuing to ask for votes and follow-up reads~

Progress toward bonus chapter: 3466/5000

Thank you all for your votes!