During Potions Class, Snape was in the same state as usual, except that he walked with a slight limp, as if he had a broken bone.
However, after drinking a bottle of medicine, he immediately returned to a normal walking posture and continued lecturing as if nothing had happened.
Morris breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed Snape had no idea the Potions ingredient warehouse had been visited.
He turned his attention back to the Swelling Solution in front of him and began to carefully grind the dried nettles.
This lesson is for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw together.
Ron sat diagonally behind Morris and hadn't stopped talking since the start of class.
"Listen," Ron leaned in again, excitedly, "We actually killed a Troll last night! I mean, Harry, Hermione, and I—though she was terrified at first..."
"Hmm, hmm," Morris replied perfunctorily, stirring the crucible gently.
He had heard this story several times already, and Hermione, who was standing beside him, had also told him the details—they used Levitation Charm to control the Troll's club and then stunned it.
Honestly, those creatures called Troll sound really weak.
Professor Quirrell fainted from fright because of this?
Morris could hardly believe it.
Is this the quality of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts?
Perhaps because Ron had been talking for too long, Snape suddenly turned his gaze to them.
He spoke coldly, " Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter. Whispering in class is forbidden. Two points deducted from Gryffindor."
Ron's lips moved, but he didn't speak.
Harry, on the other hand, wore an expression that said, "I'm used to it"—he clearly hadn't said a word.
Snape paused at their table for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the almost perfect Swelling Solution in front of Morris, then over the bubbling, murky purple mixture in Harry and Ron's pot, and a smirk played on his lips.
Why is there such a big difference between them, even though they are both students?
" Ravenclaw five points," he said expressionlessly, his gaze lingering on Morris for a couple more seconds.
Morris smiled slightly.
He discovered that ever since Snape gave him that reading list, he had been receiving special attention from Snape in class—second only to Harry Potter, of course.
That's strange.
But he doesn't dislike receiving special treatment.
What was that saying again?
Ah, yes, those who are favored are fearless.
Although Snape was mostly expressionless, Morris could sense that he was probably the student he valued most (except for Harry Potter ).
However, if Ravenclaw and Slytherin were to attend classes together, Snape would still favor the latter.
After all, Snape was the head of Slytherin —it's only natural, and understandable.
The bell rang precisely on time to signal the end of get out of class.
Morris finished tidying up his things and was about to leave when Snape's voice suddenly came from the front, " Mr. Black, stay after class."
The Gryffindor around them paused, casting glances that were a mixture of pity and curiosity.
Being left behind by Snape is usually not a good sign.
"What does he want with you?" Ron asked from behind.
"I don't know." Morris shook his head.
Judging from Snape's expression, he shouldn't have discovered the burglary yet.
After all the students had left, Morris was led into Snape's office.
This was his second time here.
He had barely sat down when Snape's words sent chills down his spine.
" Draught of Living Death?"
Snape uttered those two syllables in an almost casual tone.
Fortunately, Morris had already figured out a way to deal with this situation.
That is--
"I'm sorry, Professor, I was wrong. I won't do it again."
The three apologies flowed smoothly from Morris's lips.
His tone was sincere, and his posture was humble.
The entire process was seamless and efficient.
Snape was visibly taken aback, seemingly not expecting this turn of events.
He asked, puzzled, "Why are you apologizing?"
The office was silent for a few seconds.
Why apologize? It's obviously because of the Draught of Living Death," isn't it? Did he misunderstand?
Morris cautiously raised his gaze slightly and looked at Snape behind the desk.
Snape's face remained expressionless, except that his brows were furrowed.
He said, "It's just brewing the Draught of Living Death.' Although it's dangerous for a novice to do it, it's not something that requires an apology."
"Uh..." Morris paused, then asked, "How did you find out I was brewing the Draught of Living Death?"
"Smell," Snape replied casually, his voice carrying a hint of "it's obvious."
I see.
Morris secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Indeed, he didn't bother to remove the smell from his body after brewing the Draught of Living Death.
Snape was able to accurately identify the type of Potions Snape was brewing simply from the lingering scent.
As expected of Potions Master.
"So, Professor, why did you keep me here?" Morris asked the question that concerned him most at that moment.
Snape didn't answer immediately, but simply stared at Morris.
Meanwhile, Morris was also staring at Snape.
Other students might find their Potions Class professor's gaze chilling.
But Morris didn't; he just found it strange.
"Stay here and don't move."
Snape suddenly spoke, got up and left the office, leaving Morris alone in the chair.
This left Morris even more confused.
Three minutes later.
The office door was flung open, and Snape reappeared.
Unlike before, his face was now so gloomy it could drip water, and he was carrying a linen bag that smelled of medicinal herbs.
He went to the Potions warehouse!
And they must have noticed the problem!
Morris knew things were going badly.
Snape threw the bag on the table and sat back down.
"I need an explanation, Mr. Black." His voice was low and husky, getting straight to the point. "Several samples of the ' Draught of Living Death' have gone missing from the warehouse. I think you should know something about it."
Just now, he was about to go to the warehouse to get some materials to test the student's Potions skills, but he discovered that the reserves of those materials had changed slightly.
The reason is not hard to guess.
Morris felt somewhat helpless.
If he didn't smell of the potion used to make the Draught of Living Death" on him, he might still be able to struggle.
No one would doubt a first-year wizard.
But now, denying it seems like it will only make things worse.
I was careless.
So Morris lowered his head and said sincerely again, "I'm sorry, Professor, I was wrong, I won't do it again. I was just a little curious about the Draught of Living Death."
Snape was speechless at Morris's shameless behavior.
What can he do? Throw a tantrum? Or fire the other person?
Looking at the student in front of him, who was bowing his head and admitting his mistake with a serious posture, yet exuding a subtle aura of "I know I was wrong, but I'll do it again next time," he felt an absurd sense of powerlessness.
Moreover, this happened to be one of his students whom he greatly admired.
Snape was silent for a moment, then spoke expressionlessly, " Mr. Black, now please brew another batch of the Draught of Living Death before me."
He pointed to the bag of medicinal herbs on the table. "I've brought you the materials. The final result will affect my punishment of you."
You have two chances.
Morris nodded obediently.
What else could he do?
Just do as instructed.
To be honest, he could accept any punishment except for expulsion.
But he felt that this was a minor matter and didn't warrant being fired.