There were no classes in the afternoon, so after lunch, Draco dragged Harry to the Quidditch Pitch, saying that Harry had training today and she, as a sponsor representative, had to go and supervise.
As Harry was being dragged by the arm towards the door, she glanced back at Herman and reached out to pull Herman along. Clearly, Harry couldn't resist Draco's enthusiasm and wanted to drag someone down with her.
But Herman reacted even faster this time, quickly pulling his hand behind his back, then waving at her with a genuine smile on his face, his lips silently uttering two words: "Go for it."
Harry's expression changed from "I'll take someone down with me" to "You just wait," but her arm was being pulled by Draco, and she had already been dragged several steps away, so she didn't have time to come back and settle the score with Herman.
As Draco pulled her outside, she kept muttering about today's training plan, mentioning how Terence had been much more well-behaved lately, how Marcus's gaze towards Harry was still a bit off, and how she planned to have her father write another letter to Professor Snape to remind him about team discipline.
As Harry was being pulled away and disappeared around the corner of the corridor, Herman could still hear Draco's voice drifting over from afar. "By the way, do you think I should have someone make another batch of new team jerseys, silver-green, with the Seeker's logo embroidered on the cuffs..."
It was another pleasant afternoon. Without Draco causing trouble, and with Harry Quinn away, there was no one to bother us.
Herman stretched at the entrance to the common room, loosened his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles twice.
He looked down at his school uniform, the cuffs still stained with jam he'd accidentally gotten on while eating breakfast that morning. He'd been so busy playing with Draco that he'd rushed out the door without having time to change.
He turned around and went back to his dormitory, took off his school robe and draped it over the back of a chair, changed into a clean one, and then took out the items from the pockets of his school robe one by one and placed them on the table.
A wand, a whistle, a few Galleon, a crumpled candy wrapper, and a list of materials that Kramer had tucked inside his last letter.
He put everything away and then pulled the package Kramer had sent from under the bed.
The package wasn't large, wrapped in oiled paper and several layers of hemp rope. It was heavy when lifted, and the contents inside rattled and clattered against each other.
Herman placed the package on the table, untied the hemp rope, and carefully packed the materials inside into his backpack. He also took the Introduction to Alchemy and a blank notebook that Professor Malin had given him, and pulled the notebook from the Restricted Section of the bookshelf into the bag as well.
The backpack was bulging like a ball, and it hurt my back when I carried it on my shoulder. Herman adjusted the backpack straps so that the bulging side was facing outwards, which made it less uncomfortable to walk in, but the weight was still the same.
He weighed the backpack in his hand, estimating it to be about five or six pounds. The notebook from the Restricted Section alone was as thick as a brick. Add to that the Introduction to Alchemy alchemy book, a blank notebook, and a bunch of bottles and jars of materials, and the whole backpack was heavier than his textbooks.
But Herman was in a good mood, humming a tuneless song from his previous life as he walked up to the Seventh Floor.
He had heard that song in his previous life, but this world probably hadn't existed yet. He couldn't remember the melody anymore, only a few lines of the chorus that he could hum. The tune was completely off-key, and he had mixed up the lyrics. He couldn't help but laugh at himself halfway through humming it.
A few young wizards passing by in the corridor glanced at him, probably thinking that this Slytherin guy was a bit off his mind. Herman didn't care and continued humming as he walked upstairs.
When Herman arrived in front of the tapestry depicting the Troll dancing ballet in the Room of Requirement, he stopped, took a deep breath, and, as usual, silently recited the name of the private room he needed. Then he walked back and forth three times.
When we finished the third time, a door appeared in the wall.
Herman looked at the door and a slight smile appeared on his lips. There was no accident today; it seemed that the destined person hadn't come today and must have just happened to go in earlier.
He gripped the handle and pushed open the door. The familiar practice room appeared before him: a long table, mannequins, a crucible, a water tank, and the wooden mannequins in the corner, dented and scarred from his fire. Everything was exactly the same as when he last left.
The air still carried the faint, burnt smell from the last fire magic practice, mixed with the dampness of the stone walls themselves; it was almost undetectable unless you sniffed closely.
Herman went in, closed the door, put his schoolbag on the long table, looked around to make sure nothing had changed in the room, and then rolled up his sleeves and started working.
He first took out the materials Kramer had sent him one by one from his bag and lined them up on the table. The Ashwinder scales were in a small glass bottle, the mouth of which was sealed with wax. The scales inside had a dark red sheen, like red-hot iron filings.
Herman held the bottle up to his eyes and examined it against the light. There were probably dozens of scales, each only the size of a little fingernail, with naturally curved edges and fine lines on the surface. A dark red luster flowed between the lines, making it look like something with fire attributes.
The Moonstone Powder was wrapped in waxed paper. Once opened, the powder was as fine as flour, and its color was light grayish-white. Under light, extremely fine glitter could be seen.
Herman dipped his finger in the mixture and rubbed it. It felt smooth and slippery, completely different from flour. It was more like a very fine sand. After rubbing it, a faint silver-gray layer remained on his fingertip.
The purple diluent was contained in a narrow-necked bottle, the liquid swirling slowly at the bottom, looking anything but normal.
Herman picked up the bottle and shook it a couple of times. The liquid inside swayed, but immediately resumed spinning as if something at the bottom of the bottle was constantly stirring.
He brought the bottle closer to his nose and smelled it. A metallic, rusty smell hit his nose, along with a strange, indescribable spiciness that made him lean back.
Herman looked at the row of materials, then opened the Introduction to Alchemy that Professor Malin had given him to the chapter on materials processing, and checked each item against the instructions in the book.
The book describes it in detail: the scales of the Ashwinder must first be ground into a fine powder using a mortar and pestle, but not too finely, otherwise the magic will dissipate. The ideal state is to grind them to the consistency of coarse sugar.
A comparison image was also attached. On the left was powder that had been ground too finely, resulting in a dark color and blurred particle edges, with the description stating "Severe loss of magic power, effect reduced by half." On the right was powder that had been ground just right, with a bright color and distinct particles, with the description stating "Optimal state, magic power fully preserved."
Moonstone Powder is already fine enough that it doesn't need further processing, but it should be sieved with magic before use to remove any impurities that may be mixed in.
The book explains that Moonstone Powder is easily mixed with other mineral particles during collection and transportation. If it is used directly without sieving, the impurities will interfere with the transmission of magic power, resulting in reduced effectiveness or even ruining the entire Potions.
After reading the instructions, Herman prepared to begin practicing material processing.