In the afternoon, Herman and Harry walked up the stairs one after the other, passed through several corridors with tapestries, turned into the less crowded passage, and finally stopped in front of the tapestry depicting Troll dancing ballet.
Herman stood before the tapestry, composing himself, thinking about his own room, and then walked around it three times. When he finished the third time, a door appeared on the wall.
Herman pushed open the door and went in, Harry following closely behind. She looked up and glanced around, her gaze sweeping over the dents in the walls, the long tables, the sink, the mortar and pestle, and the mannequin, before speaking with a hint of surprise:
" The Room of Requirement —I've heard my godfather mention it. He said it's one of the most fun places at Hogwarts, and it can even conjure up a forest farm."
She walked to the long table, put down what she was carrying, and glanced at the crucibles and various instruments in the corner. "Everything is still there; we don't need to move it from the professor's office."
Herman placed the package on the workbench, untied the rope, and took out the contents one by one. Bottles and jars were stacked in a row, and next to them were several packets of dried materials wrapped in wax paper, labeled with handwriting that looked like Kramer's own.
Harry walked over and picked them up one by one to check them. First, she looked at the color, then she smelled them, and then she arranged each item on the table in order.
After Harry finished her inspection, she looked at Herman standing to the side and said, "I checked the properties of these materials, and I estimate that this formula might have other effects besides removing the magical residue left by Fantastic Beasts."
Herman asked doubtfully, "What kind of effect will it have? It's not just about removing residual magic and healing wounds, is it?"
Harry put down the bottle of Ashwinder scales in her hand. "I don't know. Professor Snape took the notebook and only gave me the recipe. I looked in the Restricted Section again, but I couldn't find the notebook. Professor Snape must have moved it."
Herman thought for a moment, "Never mind that, as long as it heals the wound."
He moved his shoulder; the dull pain was a little worse than yesterday, probably aggravated after being grazed by Quirrell's beam during Dark Magic Defence Class. "If this drags on any longer, and Quirrell makes me go up as a teaching example again next class, I really won't be able to hold on. Quirrell might also find out. I don't think Professor Quirrell will help me hide my injury."
Harry didn't say anything more. She rolled up her sleeves, picked up the bottle of Moonstone Powder, tapped it lightly on the table, opened the bottle, and poured a small amount into the mortar.
She began to operate, her movements slow but almost without pause between each step, as if she had already mentally reviewed the steps.
After she ground the powder in the mortar several times, its color became a shade lighter than before, with a very faint silver-gray sheen at the edges.
She poured the ground powder into the crucible, then picked up the Mandrake Root and used a knife to slice it into thin slices, each slice being about the same thickness. She laid them out in a row on the table and then pushed them into the crucible one by one.
The liquid in the crucible began to change color, slowly turning from cloudy to clear, with tiny bubbles appearing around the edges.
Her movements remained unhurried and deliberate. Each time she added material, she would first glance at the heat level before reaching out to take a piece. The whole process was so smooth that it seemed pre-arranged, without any unnecessary movements.
Herman stood by and watched without interrupting.
He noticed that Harry's focus while using the wand was different from her usual laziness. The way she used the wand was also more natural than in class, like it was dancing on the table, with a rhythm that he could never find in Potions Class.
The liquid in the crucible began to turn red, then deep red, and then even redder, as if something was burning at the bottom of the pot.
Finally, she turned off the fire and gently stirred it one last time with the stirring rod. The color of the Potions stabilized; it was a dark red liquid with a very faint golden halo on the surface, as if there were dancing flames rolling beneath the water.
It wasn't just a "seem"; it seemed like there really were flames leaping about, and Herman could even feel a heat radiating outwards.
This potion doesn't look like an ordinary Potions; it's more like some kind of flame temporarily sealed within a liquid.
Herman stood by the table for a moment, examining it. "This thing doesn't look like a normal Potions. Are you sure you can use it, or that it's not for self-immolation?"
Harry explained, "The flames were made using a lot of materials from Ashwinder, and they possess fire magic, but they can definitely heal wounds. The moonstone powder inside is for healing."
At this moment, the liquid in the crucible began to decrease. Harry took out her wand, and with a wave of the wand, the liquid flew out and landed in a pre-prepared glass bottle. The bottle opening was not sealed, and flames shot out from the opening like an alcohol lamp.
Herman glanced at Harry, then at the Potions, and finally gritted his teeth, picking up the Potions to drink it all in one gulp.
Harry quickly reached out to stop her. "What are you doing?"
Herman asked in confusion, "Drink?"
Harry was speechless. "This isn't for drinking, it's for external use. Didn't you read the ingredients?"
Herman paused for a moment. "External application?"
Harry glanced at him. "What do you think? The ingredients for the Ashwinder make up almost half of the recipe. If you drink it, you might actually burst into flames tonight. That would be true self-immolation."
Herman was silent for two seconds. He realized he hadn't finished reading the recipe. He'd only read a couple of lines of unfamiliar ingredients before losing interest, subconsciously assuming that Potions were all meant to be drunk.
Harry withdrew her hand, but her eyes remained fixed on Herman, probably worried he might drink it again while still in his dazed state, ready to intervene at any moment. "Now you know, try pouring it on your arm."
Herman took off his school robe and draped it over the back of the chair. He tried to roll up the sleeves of the lining, but the wound was close to his shoulder, and rolling it up would obstruct the wound.
He simply took off his undershirt, revealing his bare chest and the swollen, red wound. The surrounding skin was darker than it had been two days ago, with light red edges.
He picked up the Potions bottle and poured it directly onto the wound. The dark red liquid flowed slightly on his skin, as if it were alive.
The moment the medicine touched the skin, a cool sensation penetrated directly through the swollen flesh and into the bones.
Herman felt as if he had been frozen, or as if something had enveloped him from the inside. The dull pain that had lingered for days felt as if a hand had suddenly pulled it out of the wound.
He couldn't help but let out a muffled groan, his shoulders involuntarily slumped, and the heaviness in his entire arm felt as if it had been drained away.
He looked down at the swollen skin, which was visibly fading, its color lightening, and its edges shrinking, as if an invisible hand was smoothing out the abnormal swelling little by little.
Herman moved his shoulders and rotated his arms, and the feeling of being stuck completely disappeared.
He lowered his arm and let out a long breath. "Not bad, very good, thanks. I owe you a big favor."
Harry didn't reply, her gaze remaining fixed on his shoulder. Herman, puzzled, asked curiously, "Is something wrong?"