The Highly Anticipated Potions Class

Before Friday's Potions class, Silan still had several other lessons to attend.

First was Charms, taught by Professor Flitwick.

The head of Ravenclaw House was a small wizard, only about as tall as Dumbledore's waist.

Everyone guessed that he had some goblin blood.

Though his voice squeaked when he lectured, he was a genuine Charms master and even a dueling champion.

Honestly, a wizard of his caliber was nearly impossible for ordinary young wizards to find outside Hogwarts.

Even if they were fortunate enough to study under one, there was no telling whether they would receive the same hands-on instruction Flitwick gave.

Not to mention that Professor Flitwick would take delicate, delicious cupcakes from his drawer and make them dance to cheer up gloomy young wizards.

Teachers like that were rare indeed.

The first Charms lesson covered the Lighting Charm. Its incantation was "Lumos."

Although this spell was very simple, it had not actually been invented until the eighteenth century.

Because it was easy to learn, any wizard with a wand and the ability to speak could cast it.

In its early days, the Lighting Charm had even been used to distinguish wizards from Squibs, with an accuracy rate of nearly one hundred percent.

It could be said that anyone unable to learn the Lighting Charm definitely was not a wizard.

This spell was also used extremely often.

The famous magizoologist Newt Scamander had once lit his wand in Nicolas Flamel's home to examine Yusuf Kama's eye, then pulled a water dragon parasite out of it.

Professor Flitwick understood very well that learning required positive feedback to form a virtuous cycle.

As long as young wizards successfully cast a small spell, the joy of that success would drive them to immerse themselves in the wonders of Charms.

That was why he had chosen to teach the Lighting Charm in the first lesson.

Unfortunately, Silan had learned the Lighting Charm long ago.

He continued flipping through the spellbook he had borrowed from the library, studying other spells.

After Charms came Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Of course, it could also be called the "one-year professor class."

This year's professor was Quirrell, a Ravenclaw graduate.

He had previously taught Muggle Studies, but Dumbledore had pressed him into service to teach this subject.

"All r-right, students... class is starting. We... we are learning... learning about..."

Quirrell's stammering manner of speech filled the classroom with a cheerful atmosphere.

The students pointed at him and whispered, breaking into snickers from time to time.

Malfoy laughed the most outrageously of all.

Quirrell's lessons were unbearably dull. He merely clutched a textbook and stammered through it word for word.

The students had no interest in listening. They played and horsed around on their own, with no one taking him seriously.

Silan thought that if Quirrell were willing to take off his turban and let Voldemort out for a stroll, these chattering young wizards would probably be scared stiff.

To be honest, Silan found it rather regrettable.

Quirrell had been a top student in Ravenclaw, and his knowledge had originally been extensive.

Yet now he had become a timid professor who could only recite from textbooks, costing Silan many opportunities to learn.

If I went to see Quirrell in private, would old Voldemort take over? Silan could not help wondering.

For some reason, Voldemort, who excelled at Dark magic, harbored an almost obsessive fixation on teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Dumbledore's refusal to let him teach the subject had even enraged him enough to place a curse on it, one that even Dumbledore could not break.

Silan did not particularly care who taught him.

Whether it was Quirrell or Voldemort, knowledge and power themselves had no inherent good or evil. It all depended on how people used them.

Besides, only by learning from Voldemort could one fight Voldemort!

Learn the enemy's strengths to defeat the enemy.

But he only entertained the thought in his head and did not say it aloud.

After that came Herbology with Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff House.

She was a short, plump witch who usually stayed in the greenhouses, tending to the flowers and plants she had grown. Her robes were always stained with dirt, making her look less like a scholar and more like a gardener.

"Welcome to the greenhouse."

Professor Sprout stood at the entrance, speaking seriously to the young wizards.

"Before class begins, I need to remind you of a few things."

"The herbs in this greenhouse are all magical plants. Even the most ordinary ones carry a certain degree of danger. Without my permission, you are not to touch any plants, and you must wear your protective gear properly."

"Do you understand?"

"We understand," the students replied together, nodding.

After entering the greenhouse, Professor Sprout arranged them around a large table lined with pots of herbs.

The moving magical plants struck the young wizards as fascinating.

Together with Professor Sprout's clear and accessible explanations, they found the lesson engrossing and not boring in the slightest.

But the most surprising person was Neville.

No one had expected him to be the first student to complete the task Professor Sprout had assigned.

That earned Gryffindor five points.

"Neville, you must be a Herbology genius," Silan said.

"Thank you, Silan." Neville scratched his head sheepishly. "I don't know what happened either. I just succeeded right away."

Silan looked at the pot of Dittany in front of Neville and deliberately showered him with praise. Only after praising him until he was thoroughly embarrassed did he abruptly change the subject.

"If you ask me, you should study Herbology more. Don't waste your talent."

"Really?! I'll definitely study hard!" Neville's eyes were resolute, as though he had found a direction for his studies.

"Good friend, if you have any trouble, come find me for help."

"Silan, you're so kind." Neville was deeply moved.

What he did not know was that from the moment they entered the greenhouse, Silan had noticed that every single plant here was a rare species of great value.

A few random branches or leaves could sell for hundreds of Galleons.

What Silan had in mind was that if Neville studied Herbology well and later became Hogwarts's Herbology professor, would not all these precious herbs be his for the picking?

Maybe I can find a place to build Neville a greenhouse. The Room of Requirement should work.

Then I can have him grow herbs for me as free labor.

We're buddies. It's not like he'd charge me, right?

His studies improve, and I get herbs. That's the best of both worlds.

He should be thanking me! Silan thought smugly.

Friday arrived quickly, and the first-years were about to have their first Potions class.

Because Professor Snape's image as a greasy-haired old bat was so deeply ingrained, many first-years had already heard about him before class.

There were many rumors about him, such as "he never washes his hair," "he never gives Gryffindor points and never deducts points from Slytherin," and "he often scolds students to tears in class."

These newly enrolled young wizards were left thoroughly intimidated.

They hurried to the classroom early, terrified of being late.

Sure enough, after Silan finished eating and stepped out of the Great Hall, he saw several first-years hurrying toward the dungeons.

"Come on, hurry up! Professor Snape teaches Potions."

"Don't be late! He's not someone to mess with!"

"I heard that every class, he makes several students cry from scolding them."

When he arrived at the Potions classroom, the first thing Silan saw was rows of glass jars in cabinets along the walls, filled with all kinds of animal specimens.

The more timid students kept their distance from those jars, trembling nervously.

"Silan, over here." Hermione waved at him.