Frog-leg Sandwich

For some reason, Hermione suddenly smelled deathly silence in the air. She sniffed carefully and finally found the source: Kane's long-dead hopes.

"Why do you look like you're about to die?" Hermione asked with a frown.

Kane said nothing, but Harry and Ron beside him had the leisure to watch Hermione with great interest.

If nothing unexpected happened, Hermione would soon be wearing the same near-death expression.

Snape returned to the podium and demonstrated the entire process himself: selecting ingredients from the cabinet, preparing them, lighting the fire, brewing the potion, and finally bottling it.

The whole sequence flowed as smoothly as clouds and water, without the slightest hint of rigid craftsmanship. Instead, it had the silky grace of an artist painting.

"Just now, you saw the most standard method for brewing Acne Potion." After speaking, Snape casually flicked his wand. The ingredients cabinet at the back of the Potions classroom abruptly flew open, and batches of potion ingredients flew onto each group's desk.

"I will give you forty minutes. Under normal circumstances, brewing Acne Potion takes only ten." After saying that, Snape began pacing endlessly around the classroom like a lion inspecting his territory.

Kane took a deep breath and said quietly, "I'll prepare the ingredients. You control the cauldron."

"No problem." Hermione nodded, pulling out her wand and lighting the cauldron.

As the witch hazel solution inside slowly began to boil, Kane deftly handed over the powdered dragon claws.

"You can put them directly into the cauldron," Hermione reminded him.

"No. We agreed on our division of labor." Kane went back to preparing the white rose petals, snake fangs, porcupine quills, and frog legs.

"In this regard, you're as rigid as a German." Snape had appeared behind Kane at some point and gave his quiet assessment. "Potions is not merely simple replication. If a wizard can only do that, I might as well order an alchemical automaton."

After saying that, Snape swiftly glided toward Harry, glaring at Harry and Ron, who were preparing to pull some creative stunt. "You two are different. In fact, I do not believe wasting your time on Potions will produce any positive results, so you need only play the parts of two brainless alchemical robots."

Kane's mouth twitched. Perhaps because he had met Snape at Hogwarts before enrolling, Snape showed him a tiny bit of... consideration?

Ah, he suddenly felt a trace of remorse over his bizarre talent. If Snape could target him the way he targeted Harry, then when Kane later showed him how to turn an iron pot into pork ribs, he could at least do so with a clear conscience.

What he feared was that Snape might have some unrealistic expectations of him. What if Snape thought he was a promising student, put effort into teaching him, and then Kane hit him with something truly brutal?

Merciful Je... Merlin, I apologize and repent in advance for any psychological trauma I may cause Professor Snape, and I have no intention of offering compensation.

"See how well Professor Snape put it? You should innovate a little instead of acting like a machine." Hermione pushed the cauldron toward Kane as she spoke.

In a practical class like this, she could not be the only one operating it. Otherwise, wouldn't Kane have come to class for nothing?

However, Kane was generally resistant to Hermione's goodwill.

"Why? I'm doing this for your own good," Hermione said, somewhat unable to understand.

"Please rein in the mom vibe, thanks." Kane's words left Hermione silent. For one brief moment, she even wanted to slam the cauldron over his head.

For the next half of the lesson, Hermione still operated the cauldron while Kane prepared potion ingredients for her. He was practically the man standing behind the potion brewer.

As for everyone else and Snape, the young wizards calmly caused disasters while Snape leisurely sprayed venom, immersing every student in the Slytherin Head of House's uniquely sharp verbal blades.

And the target Snape valued most was none other than Harry Potter.

After this class, Harry probably would not keep pestering Kane to spend the holidays at the Dursley Household anymore.

You never know pain until the knife falls on your own body. Harry now understood that saying very deeply.

"My heavens, Mr. Potter. In all my years teaching at Hogwarts, I have never seen a young wizard prepare ingredients with such... personality."

When Snape saw that Harry was not wearing the expression of someone whose James had just died, he grew displeased. "Do you think I was praising you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, of course not."

A slow smile spread across Snape's face. Just thinking about what he was about to say made it difficult for him to hold back his laughter.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, you guessed wrong. I was indeed praising you just now. As punishment for guessing incorrectly, Gryffindor loses another five points."

Hermione's wand paused sharply as she stirred the cauldron, nearly ruining the entire batch of potion.

"Relax. They're only points. They can't count toward final grades, you can't eat them or spend them, and they're only there to look at. They're useless," Kane comforted her quietly.

"It's not about the points. It's that Snape is so biased against Gryffindor," Hermione said indignantly.

"Yeah, that's true." Kane had no objection to that. Unlike the peaceful side of the room occupied by Slytherin, Snape spent most of his time hovering around Gryffindor, looking for trouble.

Speak of trouble, and trouble arrived. Not far in front of Kane, Neville and Seamus's ingredients erupted like deep-fried iced watermelon. Even a volcanic eruption could not describe the shocking sight; all anyone could see was Neville's face, resembling the surface of the moon.

Snape strode over. "Gryffindor loses ten points!" Then he flicked his wand, forcibly pressing the erupting cauldron back down.

"You two, go to the hospital wing and find Madam Pomfrey. Harry Potter, why are you standing there staring without the slightest trace of grief? Does your classmate's misfortune make you feel fortunate? Gryffindor loses another ten points!"

In the span of a single lesson, Gryffindor had practically become Gryffind-less. Kane and Hermione continued staring at the cauldron in front of them.

"Brewing this potion, I feel like I'm walking on thin ice. Tell me, will I make it to the end of class?" Kane said gloomily to Hermione.

Before Hermione could answer, Snape's voice drifted out from behind them. "The answer is no. And let me remind you that you came here for Potions, not Potion Ingredient Preparation. If you do not personally operate the cauldron, I'm afraid Gryffindor's score will truly be gone."

Gulp!

Kane slowly swallowed, while Hermione beside him was so intimidated by Snape's pressure that she could not move at all.

"Professor, do you really want me to operate it?" Kane turned to Snape, hoping for a disclaimer.

"Or what?" Snape said coldly.

Kane accepted the cauldron as though marching to his death, picked up the final potion ingredient on the table—a dried frog leg—and tossed it into the cauldron.

In an instant, the potion inside the cauldron gave off an eerie light.

Watching from the sidelines, Harry and Ron simultaneously raised their hands and slapped their foreheads.

"It's over. It's over."

As Kane watched a Frog-leg Sandwich slowly appear inside the cauldron, he murmured, "It's over. It's over."