After the training, Herman realized that he needed to get used to casting spells with his left hand as soon as possible, at least to be able to cope with his daily studies. Otherwise, if his teacher noticed that his spellcasting ability had suddenly declined and that he was using his wand instead of his left, it would be too troublesome to explain.
Moreover, using instinctive spellcasting to manipulate objects is somewhat troublesome. Herman is used to raising his hand to assist in casting spells, and the patterns on his arm will be triggered as soon as he moves his right hand.
I can't exactly explain to the professor that I've mastered the Fire-Making Spell without any instruction.
Time flies, and before they knew it, it was Dark Magic Defence Class.
When Herman pushed open the classroom door, Quirrell was already standing in front of the podium. He smiled when he saw Herman come in, a smile that was still gentle, then his gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if he was considering what he needed to do today to satisfy Snape. He had already given him one Potions, and he estimated that another use would completely heal his wounds.
Quirrell quickly spoke up, " Mr. Horace, we would like to have you as our teaching assistant again today."
Herman stood at the classroom door, his schoolbag still in his hand.
He glanced at Quirrell's calm, smiling face, then at the cardboard box at his feet—the same one that had held the books last time. The lid was closed, but a section of dark fabric was peeking out from the edge, as if something else had been packed inside.
He didn't ask any questions, put down his schoolbag and walked to the front of the classroom, where he was severely punished.
This time, Quirrell didn't release a book from the cardboard box, but a group of palm-sized monsters with grayish-black skin, long and thin limbs, and extremely fast movements, like a group of small spiders that had been released. However, they had sharp, fine teeth and short wings, and when they flew, the flapping sound was as dense as a swarm of bees.
Herman's control over his left-hand wand hadn't caught up yet. When the first wave rushed over, he only managed to block three of them. The remaining ones had already landed on him, biting the edge of his school robe and tearing off a small strip of fabric.
He quickly swung his staff to deflect the rest, but the accuracy of his left-hand spellcasting was not as good as his right. He had to dodge to the side, using his toes to hook up an overturned stool on the ground to block it beside him. At the same time, he barely managed to cast a Levitation Charm with his left hand, pulling over all the books, ink bottles, and quill pens on the table and smashing them down on the little monsters.
At thirty seconds, Quirrell called a halt. Herman's school robe had several more tears, and his wand in his left hand was covered in sweat. He stood in front of the classroom, panting, and the bite marks on his shoulder were still red, but the skin hadn't broken.
After Quirrell made a few comments, he gestured for Herman to return to his seat. Herman returned to his seat, switched his wand back to his right hand, and glanced down at his left palm, where a light red mark had been worn from where he had gripped the wand.
In the afternoon, Herman stormed off to the Room of Requirement extra training.
The room was still the same; the dummy stood in the corner, and the mortar and pestle by the sink remained untouched. Herman practiced casting spells with his left hand on the dummy for nearly an hour, trying each spell several times, from Levitation Charm to Transfiguration to simple Impediment Jinx.
At first, my wand would always be tilted at one angle after I finished chanting the spell. It got a little better later, but it's still not as good as my right hand.
As he rested at the workbench, his gaze fell on the overturned stool leg on the floor, and he suddenly remembered Quirrell's cardboard box. The fact that it could pack so many things into a single box and take them away, and release them in batches, suggested that the box was probably an alchemical creation.
If he could make a similar portable container to hold everything, he wouldn't have to stuff his pockets with odds and ends like playing cards, daggers, and shields every time he went out.
He thought about it and realized that a deck of 54 cards would be enough if they could all be used, but the metal sword Herman Transfiguration into was too blunt and caused limited damage. If he could bring several decks, the effect would be different if the quantity was increased.
However, after flipping through the Introduction to Alchemy that Marlene had given him, he discovered that the creation of things that could store objects was a rather advanced field, and the book only mentioned it in general terms without providing specific methods for making them.
His current foundation is still at the material identification stage. To make something like that, he probably needs to learn how to identify and process alchemical materials first.
Herman turned to the chapter on material identification, read two pages, and then closed the book. Simply reading and memorizing wasn't enough; he needed to practice identifying objects with real ones. Otherwise, the descriptions on paper were just names and explanations to him, without any actual tactile sensation or features to match them up.
He sat at the workbench for a while, wondering where he could get so many materials to practice with.
He was sure Professor Malin had it, but remembering her cold and distant demeanor during their last meeting, he hesitated, wondering if those days had passed.
He sat there lost in thought, his gaze unconsciously sweeping across the room, past the charred mannequins in the corner, past the used crucibles on the table, and finally settling on the door on the wall.
Herman suddenly remembered that there was a room in the Room of Requirement filled with clutter. It was piled with old things that the school had accumulated over the years, things that students had lost, forgotten, or deliberately hidden—you name it.
There must be a lot of magical items among those things. Since they're already discarded, it shouldn't be against the rules for him to take apart a few pieces to study them.
Disassembly itself is a way to learn alchemy. He had read something similar in that Introduction to Alchemy: one of the best ways to understand how an object is made is to take it apart and see.
Herman made up his mind to first finish reading the basic books on Alchemy Materials Science that Marlene had recommended, so that he could at least have a general impression of the appearance and basic characteristics of various materials. This way, when disassembling things, he could identify what he was taking apart.
He noted down several book titles: " Basic Identification of Alchemical Materials," " Properties of Magical Conductors and Carriers," and " Energy Flow and Storage in Alchemy." These books should all be available in the library.
He decided to go to the library this weekend to find those books, solidify his foundation first, and then go to that cluttered room to see if there were any things suitable for him to disassemble and practice with.
Friday arrived in the blink of an eye, and it was time for Potions Class.
When Herman entered the underground classroom, Snape was already standing behind the podium, his black robes hanging down his sides as always, and his hair still neatly combed.
Herman sat down in the Slytherin area, Draco sat down next to him, looking down at her textbook. Harry sat further by the window, expressionless and lost in thought. After making a potion for Herman, Harry had lost interest in Potions Class again.
Snape began his lecture, but this time he didn't call Herman's name as frequently as he had in the first few classes, nor did he stand beside Herman and stare at him with that critical eye while he was working.
Herman completed a standard dose of the drug. Snape glanced at the finished product as he passed by and left without commenting, deducting points, or using him as a negative example.