“So, judging this ‘critical state’ requires observing the volume of green smoke closely after the stirring rod exceeds a certain rotational speed?”
“That really is…” Hermione put down her quill and rubbed her aching wrist, sighing with a headache.
“Not easy to grasp at all.”
“If you really want to try replicating it, I suggest adding a bit more water-soaked snake fang powder.
After all, what was mostly in my head back then was—”
“—Instinct, right?
That’s the eighth time you’ve mentioned that word.” Hermione tugged at her hair, feeling a bit discouraged.
Even with an eyewitness detailing the brewing steps right beside her, and having participated in the process herself, she couldn’t capture the ‘instinct’ and ‘timing’ Mason spoke of from her memories.
One wrong step meant an exploding cauldron.
No wonder Professor Snape kept emphasizing that only a lunatic would try brewing like that.
Mason likely did possess a natural gift for Potions that he couldn’t unleash in his past life due to the lack of magic.
Beyond that, being able to clearly see the flow of magic within the potion was another pillar of confidence backing his arrogance.
Before officially starting the brew, he had observed the failed attempt at the neighboring table; an improperly processed horned slug triggered a surge of magic upon hitting the cauldron, turning the cauldron’s magic into a deep crimson before it rapidly dissipated, ultimately resulting in a cauldron of black, lifeless sludge.
Brewing a perfect Cure for Boils had also unlocked a new entry in his Omniscience Manual.
Looking across the interface, most of the unlit black silhouettes were vague bottle shapes.
It seemed Mason would eventually get the chance to personally taste the potions from vanilla Minecraft.
After finishing lunch, Mason shamelessly went to Greenhouse 2 to find Professor Sprout, who was never one to sit idle.
“Ah, Mason!” Sprout commanded with her wand, sending scissors and gardening trowels dancing through the air across the greenhouse, lining up to divide the work.
Seeing Mason push the door open, she had the tools part to clear a path for him.
“I don’t know why you want to plant Dragonhide Grass, but I saved the seeds I collected during this period for you anyway, though it’s not a huge amount.”
Sprout handed a large bag of Dragonhide Grass seeds to Mason.
The moment he took hold of it, he felt a faint yet abundant fiery magic.
Once these seeds grew into Dragonhide Grass and were harvested, they could probably be refined into fifty units of Broken Fiery Essence, which, at a nine-to-one ratio, equaled roughly 0.07 units of Fiery Essence.
“I’ve been studying alchemy recently, Professor.
This batch of Dragonhide Grass is a massive help!”
“That couldn’t be better.
But I must warn you, growing Dragonhide Grass requires open, arid sandy loam.
Around Hogwarts, you’ll have to put some effort into finding an environment like that.
And…” Sprout pulled out another bag containing seeds left over from the previous batch grown in the greenhouse.
The quantity was considerable, but the fiery magic inside was negligible.
She continued, “Seeds extracted from dragon dung have stronger vitality, but their offspring are often difficult to keep alive even with careful tending, unless you have a way to transplant them back near a dragon nest.”
Mason had noticed this detail while studying herbology books.
He had already chosen a piece of open ground not far from the Quidditch pitch, accessible by cutting through a small grove of trees beside the main path, which made it fairly concealed.
As for the degradation of dragonhide grass offspring, Mason had no solution for the time being.
“Thank you, Professor.
I happen to have no classes this afternoon.
Is there anything I can help you with?” Mason had no intention of slinking off.
In her shoes, he wouldn’t have gone digging through dragon dung for seeds just because of a student’s request.
“Then help me de-pest the area. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
A few other students will be coming to the greenhouse for internships later, so that should lighten your load.”
Ordinary pest-control potions couldn’t deal with the Flobberworms found everywhere in the wizarding world, while spell-based pest control often ended up chopping the crops they fed on to pieces as well.
Potent pest-control potions worked great, and commercial greenhouses outside used them, but as the primary herb supplier for the Hogwarts hospital wing and Potions classes, Sprout insisted on using a free, ecological, and green pest-control method—young wizards.
“*Wingardium Leviosa*.”
Sprout’s vision blurred as Mason, empty-handed, drew that unnaturally long Elder Staff from somewhere once more.
Concentrating hard, he relied on his far-above-average spell control to disperse the floating magic that was originally bound together.
Strands of invisible magic, thin as silk, wound one by one around the worms on the bubotubers before Mason’s eyes.
These tiny yet tenacious creatures seemed to sense danger, squirming as they tried to bite down hard on the stems with their mouthparts, only to be bound tighter and tighter by the magical threads.
Too late—they had already fallen into the fine net Mason had meticulously woven.
The next moment, as the Flobberworms wriggled, the magical threads snapped taut, effortlessly hoisting the six tiny worms Mason had targeted straight into the air.
“A brilliant Levitation Charm!” Sprout’s hands twitched with excitement.
While she could cast a Levitation Charm like that too, it would take her more than double the time to manipulate the flow of magic, to say nothing of pulling in the net from six directions simultaneously.
Elder Staff: noble percentage bonuses were just that good.
“If I were the Charms professor, I would definitely award you a point.”
And so, Mason spent the entire afternoon clearing the greenhouse of Flobberworms.
His flashy, show-stopping technique even frightened the older students who arrived later.
Carrying the Dragonhide Grass seeds, Mason returned to the castle.
He ducked into a blind spot to store them in his inventory, rubbing his sore eyes.
He decided to get a sweet tea first; his magic power wasn’t depleted, but his mental energy was running on fumes.
If the Amethyst Resonance Amulet hadn’t given him a boost, he might have fainted before reaching the castle.
“You don’t look so hot today.
Have a fight with Miss Know-it-all?” Wood always managed to pop out from corners Mason couldn’t see.
Perhaps that was an essential skill for a Quidditch player.
“I just spent the whole afternoon playing farm simulator…
Damn it, I was so busy showing off that now everyone looks like a caterpillar to me.”
“Professor Sprout put up another request?
The one she posted this morning hasn’t been taken yet.” Wood pointed at the notice board.
The top contained two requests, one of which belonged to Professor Sprout:
[Need two assistants over the weekend for bulk Mandrake repotting.
Earmuffs provided.
Reward: choose any five herbs from Greenhouses 1–3 upon completion.] — Pomona Sprout.
[The Hippogriffs are hungry.
Volunteers needed.
(Professor McGonagall’s P.S.: Must hold an O.W.L.
certificate in Care of Magical Creatures.)] — Rubeus Hagrid.
Mason was at a loss for words regarding Hagrid’s eagle-like language system.
He chatted a bit more with Wood until the team members finished their meal, at which point they bid Mason farewell and rushed off to the pitch.
After finishing his iced, sweetened black tea, Mason failed to find any familiar taste in it.
Remembering he still had detention with Snape tonight, he decided to rest his head on the table for a moment, and promptly fell asleep.
Hermione, passing by, let out a helpless sigh and sat down opposite Mason with her books in hand.
Truth be told, the white-haired boy only managed to tone down his eccentric aura when he was fast asleep.
His side profile right now was remarkably suited for an art studio model.
In the end, it was an impatient Snape who personally came to the Great Hall to haul away the half-awake Mason.
He intended to rigorously train this clever kid who had been sorted into the wrong house.
Tonight’s detention didn’t involve helping Snape process small animal ingredients needed for tomorrow’s class.
The old bat pulled a thick stack of books from under his desk, first forcing Mason to read through an entire volume of *A Compendium of Common British Potion Ingredients and Primary Processing Techniques*, then pulling out several compendiums from other regions, speaking in an almost commanding tone:
“Memorize the contents of these books within three months.
I will test you then.
As for the rest, swallow them down before the end of the term.
Remember, your Potions exam will not be like anyone else’s.”
Inside the office, Mason sat obediently at the desk reading his book, while Snape stood near the workstation handling potion ingredients, looking for all the world as if Mason were the actual Potions professor.
“I’m telling you, that Jones must be regretting it so badly right now…” Malfoy knocked on the office door, and upon receiving permission, walked in with his two cronies.
Seeing the scene before them, all three froze in place.
“If you have no business, get the hell out!
Idiots, can’t you see I’m handling the entrails of a leaping lizard?”
Flowing air would accelerate the organ decay of this type of lizard.
Mason cross-referenced the African edition of the compendium—this batch of lizards from West Africa certainly wasn’t cheap.
“Yes!
Professor!” Under Mason’s contemptuous gaze, the three scrambled out on all fours.
Snape extended the detention past its usual end time, keeping Mason until late into the night.
Before letting him go, he casually asked a few minor questions from the first compendium, which Mason answered without a hitch.
“Don’t expect me to write you a pass note.
Are you really incapable of avoiding a Squib?” You miserable old codger, see if I don’t pull your oxygen tube in the finale.
Mason left the dungeon office, carefully scanning his surroundings.
He didn’t spot Mrs.
Norris, but on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he bumped straight into an unexpected figure.
“…What a lovely encounter, Mason.” Elaine, who hadn’t managed to trigger her Invisibility Cloak in time, came face-to-face with Mason.
“If you’re referring to being kept in detention by Snape until this hour, forgive me for disagreeing.”
Mason stretched, a surge of mischievous amusement rising in his mind fueled by his startling intellect.
He spoke once more:
“Elaine, you wouldn’t want the professors to know about your night stroll, would you?”
“???”