The finished product made by Hugo was placed on his desk. The colors were almost exactly the same as the illustrations in the textbook, and it was so neat that it looked like it had been printed.
Snape walked to his table, paused, and stared at the finished dish for a moment, as if trying to find fault, but ultimately only said, "A perfectly prepared sauce, a stark contrast to someone else. Five points for Gryffindor."
He didn't turn to look at Herman when he said this, but Herman knew he was definitely mocking him.
Then a muffled thud exploded from the corner of the classroom.
The crucible in front of Seamus seemed to be pushed from the inside, and the body of the cauldron suddenly sprang up, splashing a ball of dark green liquid onto the walls and ceiling, emitting a pungent acidic smell.
Snape turned, his gaze sweeping over the wall splattered with Potions, his expression darkening. " Mr. Finnigan!"
Seamus sat there, a few drops of splashed medicine on his face, looking completely bewildered, or perhaps he was simply stunned by the explosion.
Snape spoke more slowly than usual, his deliberate pace betraying his obvious anger. "What a genius! A simple Draught of Peace went off like that. Gryffindor loses twenty points. You'll stay after class to clean the classroom."
Herman glanced at the Gryffindor score hourglass; from the five points Hugo had just scored, twenty points had been deducted, turning it into a negative number.
Snape continued walking around the classroom, stopping at Draco's desk to glance at the black pot in front of her, its surface covered with a layer of murky bubbles, making it impossible to discern any shape.
Herman noticed that Snape's gaze lingered on the pot of black water for a moment before looking away without offering any comment, as if he were in a hurry to do something else.
Draco's shoulders visibly relaxed as she looked down, pretending to be intently stirring the pot of unidentified matter.
Herman noticed her relieved expression. She had probably been tense ever since she heard she had been penalized, fearing the same criticism would fall on her. Clearly, she knew her dish wasn't much better than hers. However, Snape's target was obviously not her.
He squeezed through the gap between the workbenches and stopped in front of Harry's desk.
On the workbench in front of Harry lay a textbook, the page still showing the table of contents, and something was cooking in the crucible next to her.
Herman craned his neck to take a look and discovered that when she made Potions, she was completely flipping through the textbook, doing it step by step as she saw it, and the dosage was inaccurate. She didn't even use a balance scale, just poured it in by feel.
Herman stared at the pot of boiling liquid, waiting for it to explode. But after about half a minute, the color of the Potions began to stabilize, gradually becoming clearer from cloudy, and finally showing a light silver sheen that was close to the textbook sample.
Herman sat there, staring at the finished product, with only one thought in his mind: What the hell is the principle behind this? Is this some kind of talent?!
Snape glanced at the finished pot, his expression barely changing, but his tone was noticeably more relaxed than before. "I didn't expect a first-year student to achieve this level. Potions aren't rigid rules; you have to adjust them flexibly according to the state of the ingredients. Miss Potter's observation of details is outstanding. Slytherin, 30 points."
Herman, sitting in the seat next to him, felt his back teeth grind when he heard that. "Hey, Professor, that's not what you just said."
He glanced down at his own pot of dark green liquid, which had been forgotten on the counter, then looked up at Harry's pot of the finished product, which she had cooked according to the "I think it's good enough" process.
The gap between the two left him momentarily unsure whether to question the logic of the discipline or to question himself.
After pondering the importance of talent for a few seconds, Herman remembered Snape's words and roared inwardly, "Hey, Headmaster, what happened to what you just said about reverence for Potions? Harry practically stirred them with her feet! This is a conspiracy!"
In the end, Herman decided that it would be better to remain silent during Potions Class from now on.
At lunchtime, Herman was still digesting the aftereffects of the previous Potions Class while stuffing bread into his mouth.
He muttered in a low voice to the steak on his plate, "This lousy school is unbearable; it's pure discrimination."
Draco, sitting next to him, didn't hear him clearly. "What did you say?"
Herman shook his head. "It's nothing, I just said the steak was pretty good."
Draco looked at him suspiciously, but didn't ask any further questions, and continued to eat the food on her plate.
Herman put down his fork and glanced at Draco, who was enjoying her meal.
She had already casually poured out the pot of black water she made in Potions Class and rinsed the cauldron clean. She was completely unaware of how outrageous her finished product was.
Herman glanced again at the long table over there in Gryffindor. Seamus wasn't there; he was probably still in the classroom cleaning the walls.
It seems that even if Snape wanted to play the good guy in front of Harry, he couldn't stand seeing a student ruining Potions.
Herman turned to look at the professor's seat, where Snape was sitting calmly cutting a piece of grilled fish, showing no signs of having just deducted twenty points from someone in class.
Herman glanced at the Gryffindor score hourglass again; the rubies inside were noticeably fewer than in the morning.
He stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth and began to plan his afternoon.
Tomorrow I'm going to Hagrid's place, and I have to play dumb and play along with Neville and the others. I also have to cooperate with their performance and pretend I don't know what they're trying to hide.
Herman felt exhausted just thinking about it.
Fortunately, he had no classes this afternoon, so he decided to stay away from Harry and Draco and enjoy some relaxing time alone.
I'm debating whether to go fishing at Black Lake or visit the castle and other places mentioned in the original story. My shoulder injury is still throbbing, so fishing probably won't be comfortable. I'll just find a quiet place to stroll around.
He suddenly remembered that the Room of Requirement in the original story was quite interesting. If it really could grant any wish, then he would have to see if he could come up with something fun.
As he was thinking, he caught a glimpse of two figures hopping and skipping from the Gryffindor table toward Slytherin.
George and Fred's gait was unique in the entire Great Hall, exuding a nonchalant air of "I don't care about anyone in this school," and hopefully Mrs. Weasley wouldn't see it.
The two walked through the aisle between the long tables, ignoring the hostile stares directed at them by the Slytherin students, clearly having a history of feuds with Slytherin students.
However, this was Great Hall, and there were still professors on the stage who hadn't finished eating, so no one dared to make a move for the time being.
They walked straight to Herman, and George squeezed into the space between Herman and Draco, making Draco tilt to the side.
Fred sat down on the other side of Herman, with the two of them flanking him on either side.
After being pushed aside, Draco glared at George while holding her plate, but George didn't notice her gaze at all, or rather, even if he did, he didn't care.
Draco was furious, but she didn't say anything. After all, these two seemed to be there to see Herman, and they had important business to discuss. She could only mutter to herself, " Herman, you wait."
George put his arm around Herman's neck, his tone tinged with curiosity. "Brother, how did you get involved with Professor Malin?"
Herman, breathless from his embrace, asked, "What?"
George released his grip and lowered his voice, saying, " Professor Malin asked us to pass on a message to you: go see her this afternoon. Her office is in the east tower, on the fourth floor, by the corner copper door."