A Special Power

Aisling deliberately sent away the Slytherin students who had been following her around and remained alone in the Potions classroom after class.

Once all the students had left, Snape began checking that lesson's assignments.

Snape inspected the potions each student had brewed. It was obvious that he was very dissatisfied with the final results of the lesson.

"Hmph—what a pack of idiots. I emphasized three times that flobberworms had to be handled before the flame was lit, yet so many of you still couldn't get it through your heads."

With just one glance at most of the potions, Snape could tell where they had gone wrong. As he spoke, he graded every student's classwork.

Though Snape's words were harsh, he was actually a little more lenient than Professor McGonagall when assigning marks. Apart from the students who had completely turned their potions into a pot of sludge, most received average grades from him.

Over the entire lesson, only Roy and Aisling received perfect scores from Snape. Even Cedric had points deducted.

After checking the final cauldron of potion, Snape turned around and found Aisling standing silently beside the lectern, her expression respectful.

She was the most gifted student Slytherin had admitted this year. Snape had also heard something about what had happened in the common room the previous night. Whether it was her personality, talent, attitude, or family background, Snape could find nothing about Aisling that he disliked.

"What is it, Grindelhill?"

When alone with Aisling, Snape's attitude softened considerably. The man who always wore a stern expression forced an unpleasant smile onto his face as he asked Aisling, standing beside the lectern, what she wanted.

"It's like this, Professor." Aisling took several potions in transparent crystal bottles from her pocket and respectfully handed them to Snape.

"These are potions I practiced brewing on my own over the summer. For some reason, no matter how many times I tried, I could never make them completely free of impurities."

Snape took the potions, uncorked one, and sniffed it with his large hooked nose. It was clear that he was very pleased with Aisling's skill in Potions.

Returning the potion to Aisling, Snape easily identified the flaw in her work.

"There is no problem with your preparation or handling, but you cannot maintain a stable magical output while brewing. For a student your age, brewing complex potions will inevitably be affected by the limitations of your magic. Still, I have to say, well done, Grindelhill. You are unlike most of the fools in this school."

Snape had identified the problem with Aisling's potion after only one look. After all, Snape himself had faced the same issue while he was at school. Was this some kind of common problem among geniuses?

"May I see the potion Roy Smee brewed?"

Aisling had now truly locked horns with Roy. The more she looked at his carefree, unserious demeanor, the angrier she became. The crucial point was that she always seemed to lose to him. Remembering Professor McGonagall's warning that day, Aisling decided she would utterly crush Roy in Potions.

"Be my guest." Snape handed Aisling the glass bottle containing the potion Roy had brewed.

"This is impossible—"

Aisling took the glass bottle and studied the potion inside under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom. She could be certain that, judging by appearance alone, Roy's potion was just as flawless as her own.

Aisling uncorked the bottle and leaned closer to smell Roy's potion. Its scent was much fainter than that of a normal potion, carrying a faint, unusual fragrance as well.

"He clearly heated it for the wrong amount of time. How did he still succeed?"

Snape saw Aisling's agitation whenever Roy was involved and merely spoke four words in a gloomy voice.

"Ancient Magic."

"What?" Aisling had never heard of Ancient Magic.

"An extremely rare talent, recorded only in certain very old books. This special power can strengthen the effects and potency of all magic wielded by its bearer, including accelerating potion brewing and enhancing the results."

Hearing that Roy possessed such powerful strength, Aisling was deeply shaken and could not help losing some composure. Snape could tell that Roy and Aisling seemed to have some sort of grievance between them, so he sternly warned her.

"I need to remind you, Grindelhill. Whatever conflict exists between you and Roy Smee, you would do best not to go against him. Roy Smee is a student Dumbledore watches very closely, and you..."

"You are Grindelwald's last relative. There are many things I need not spell out. There are also some things you would do best not to do under Dumbledore's nose."

Snape's words were full of warning.

Aisling suppressed the agitation in her heart, thanked Snape, and prepared to leave.

"I understand. Thank you for your guidance. My surname is not Grindelwald. In fact, I have never once met that person in all my life."

Aisling turned, pushed open the door to the Potions classroom, and had just stepped outside when Snape's voice came from behind her.

"Saturday night, eight o'clock. Here. Do not tell anyone else. Study up on Pepperup Potion beforehand."

Aisling turned her head and saw a rare hint of a smile on Snape's face.

Aisling gave a deep bow, then turned and left.

Walking alone through the underground corridor, Aisling's face was terribly dark. She strode quickly along, muttering to herself.

"I was never Grindelwald, and I will not be defeated like him."

At dinner, Roy ran into the Weasley twins. They had just returned from Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the excitement on their faces was impossible to contain. Roy noticed that the Ravenclaw students who had taken Defense Against the Dark Arts alongside Gryffindor were equally thrilled.

"You have no idea, our professor from America is incredible. He had us fight Dark Magic creatures right away. I even heard that Professor Thorn had the third-years cast jinxes at each other. It would be great if us younger students could learn that stuff too."

Fred threw an arm around Roy and chattered excitedly about how every student had performed against the Hinkypunk in Defense Against the Dark Arts that day.

Aisling returned from the Potions classroom. As she passed the Hufflepuff table, she glanced at Roy, who was chatting happily with Fred and George.

At the staff table, most of the professors had chosen to eat dinner in the Great Hall that day. Dumbledore sat in the middle of the group, quietly discussing something with Professor McGonagall beside him, occasionally glancing in Roy's direction.

Aisling returned to the Slytherin table, where Marcus Flint was boasting about his Quidditch skills to the surrounding students.

"Ha—most students are still curled up at home playing toy Quidditch, while my parents already took me to the Tutshill Tornados' training grounds to train with real Quidditch players. It was just—you know."

"Jiahao."

Aisling dropped into the seat opposite Flint. She did not look to be in a good mood, and Flint immediately shut his mouth.

Seeing Flint make such a fool of himself, Aisling now more or less understood what Roy meant by "Jiahao."