The Pain of an English Man

Autumn was startled to notice the sunlight dappling the water's surface—the sunlight was now streaming in from the direction of the castle, bathing the entire Fountain of Fair Fortune in a golden glow.

It seems we've been here a bit too long!

Oops, Quidditch training!

Qiu hurriedly said goodbye to Lucien, ran a few steps, hopped on the broom, and with a push of her legs, she soared into the air.

Her ponytail swung in an arc in the morning breeze. She turned back and waved to Lucien before speeding off toward the court.

"Tsk tsk."

Riemann withdrew his gaze and glanced once more at the wondrous Fountain of Fair Fortune.

"The girls at Hogwarts are going to swoon over you now," Riemann said half-jokingly. "Anyone who can bring them beauty is practically an angel."

Angel?

Lucien's lips curled slightly; that word had reminded him.

On Valentine's Day, you could also make some Alchemy Puppet that resemble little angels or Cupids to help deliver love letters or something.

In the original book, Lockhart had the dwarves cosplay as Cupid, delivering letters and reading love letters to people, which was indeed a bit abstract. Harry, who was given the love letter, was so embarrassed that he could have dug out another Hogwarts with his toes on the spot.

However, the approach can be used as a reference.

We should take the essence and discard the dross.

As they were talking, Riemann suddenly changed the subject.

"By the way Lucien, aren't you quite good at potions too?"

Riemann remembered that among the magical items Lucien had the Gryffindor twins sell, there were also some potions. Although there were fewer types than alchemical products, their effects were varied and quite unique.

Lucien nodded, wondering if his senior had also thought of something, such as making a beauty potion with effects similar to the Fountain of Fair Fortune to give to his fiancée? After all, Valentine's Day was approaching.

After receiving Lucien's affirmative reply, Riemann chuckled, his expression becoming somewhat subtle.

"So... do you have, cough cough, you know, that kind of..." he lowered his voice, his eyes filled with a mixture of expectation and embarrassment, "... a magic potion that helps hair grow?"

Hair growth?

Lucien was taken aback.

There really are magical potions that make hair grow.

It takes effect almost five minutes after drinking it, turning a buzz cut into waist-length hair—or more accurately, accelerating hair growth.

But that's not what Riemann wanted...

Sure enough, Riemann started complaining. "Learning Alchemy is quite hard work. I usually stay up really late, and now my hairline is receding..."

He raised his hand to touch his forehead and sighed, "I've suffered too much."

Lucien remained silent, then quickly glanced at Riemann's forehead.

Yes, this senior's hairline does look a bit receding, which is quite mature.

It's not baldness, but the gradual receding of the hairline is worrying.

Baldness is a long-standing source of pain for Britain men.

Aside from genetic factors, the main issue is also the water quality in Britain.

The water here is too hard!

High mineral content and long-term use of hard water for washing hair can damage the scalp and hair roots.

Lucien briefly explained the principles of hair loss to Riemann:

"Minerals in hard water can leave residue on the scalp, clogging hair follicles. Sometimes, washing your hair every day in an attempt to keep it clean actually removes the scalp's protective layer—a vicious cycle that eventually prevents hair from growing back..."

Riemann listened in a daze, then a look of sudden realization appeared on her face.

"I see... washing your hair too often can damage your scalp?" He touched his hair thoughtfully. "So, in that case—"

"So that's why Dean Snape's hair was so thick?"

As soon as she finished speaking, Riemann herself was stunned.

He quickly turned his head and looked around, his eyes filled with obvious panic and lingering fear—afraid that his dean would appear unnoticed.

This isn't the first or second time this has happened.

Professor Snape walked as if he were silent, often speaking out suddenly from behind his students, scaring them half to death.

fine.

The surroundings were empty; apart from Lucien and Riemann themselves, there wasn't a soul in sight.

Riemann breathed a sigh of relief.

Lucien's lips twitched slightly.

You know what, Snape's hair was oily, but there was a lot of it.

Those jet-black, "slick" hairs, draped over his shoulders, stood out even in the dimly lit cellar of Potions Class —well, they were quite noticeable.

Judging by the sheer volume of his hair alone, he could easily outshine most middle-aged men in Britain.

Not washing your hair has its advantages too.