“Linus.” Hermione’s pinch shifted to a vigorous shake of his arm.
“What is it?” Linus Sunwood shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
“Something’s wrong with Harry.” Hermione pointed toward the sky.
Following her finger, Linus saw Harry jerking strangely high in the air, looking as though he were wrestling with his broomstick.
The broom was carrying him higher and higher, nearly drifting out of the stadium altogether.
*Is it today?* Linus suddenly remembered.
He looked down toward the Slytherin stands.
Following his gaze, Hermione spotted Severus Snape in the distance.
She snatched Hagrid’s binoculars, peered through them, and saw Snape’s lips moving rapidly.
“It’s Snape.
He’s jinxing Harry’s broom,” Hermione said with absolute certainty.
Linus initially wanted to explain, but on second thought, tangling with Snape was much safer than tangling with Quirrell.
He kept his mouth shut.
“What do we do?” a shell-shocked Ron chimed in.
“Leave it to me.” Hermione hitched up her robes and bolted toward the opposite stands.
Linus sighed and followed her.
Navigating the packed spectator stands was no easy feat.
The two small students squeezed through gap after tight gap.
Along the way, Hermione accidentally knocked over Penelope’s cola, stepped on Eddie Carmichael’s Quick-Quotes Quill, and elbowed Montague right in the chin.
Linus trailed behind her, offering apologies to every single victim of her wake.
Finally reaching Snape’s row, Hermione ducked low, whispered an incantation, and a bright blue flame drifted onto the hem of Professor Snape’s robes.
*My condolences, Professor,* Linus thought, having witnessed the entire crime.
The flame quickly spread across Snape’s black robes.
It wasn’t until Linus caught the acrid, bitter scent of burning fabric mixed with wormwood juice that Snape finally realized his robes were on fire.
*He must have been completely focused on Harry,* Linus reasoned.
Snape jumped up in a hurry to beat out the flames.
In the air, Harry’s situation improved instantly.
He regained full control of his broom and was flying smoothly once more.
*Let’s go.* Hermione spun around, grabbed Linus’s hand, and swiftly dragged him away from the scene of the crime.
They were only halfway back when a thunderous roar of cheers swept through the stadium.
Linus glanced down to see Harry standing on the turf, holding the Golden Snitch high above his head. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
“We won!” Hermione squealed.
“We did,” Linus said, smiling.
The morning’s incident at the Quidditch pitch left Linus feeling slightly guilty when he entered Snape’s office that afternoon.
However, any lingering guilt vanished the moment he spotted the Mirror of Erised standing beside a glass cabinet.
*So that’s what Quirrell was looking for in Snape’s office that night,* Linus thought, biting his lip.
*The Philosopher’s Stone hidden inside the mirror.*
“What do you see in the mirror?” Snape’s voice drifted from behind Linus like a specter, his tone as low and quiet as ever.
“Why is there a mirror here?” Whenever Linus wanted to avoid answering, he deflected with another question.
“Dumbledore believes my quarters require more light.” Snape swept his robes.
“Go to the cabinet and get the powdered moonstone and syrup of hellebore.
I trust I do not need to tell you what potion we are brewing today.”
“The Draught of Peace, Professor?” Linus guessed.
“If your practical skills could match your brains, I believe we could both spare ourselves a great deal of trouble,” Snape said coldly.
“Thank you for the compliment, Professor,” Linus replied smoothly.
He poured the syrup into his flask and used a glass stirring rod to stir it counterclockwise three and a half times.
However, upon stopping, he didn’t feel the boiling vibration described in the textbook.
He looked up at Snape in confusion.
Snape sneered.
“If rote learning could solve everything, Hogwarts would be crawling with Potion Masters by now.”
Long accustomed to the man’s biting tongue, Linus quietly waited for his explanation.
Sure enough, Snape delivered.
“The author of *Intermediate Potions*, Andre Rond, based his calculations on syrup of hellebore prepared by average wizards.
Its potency is relatively weak, which is why it requires only three and a half stirs to begin emitting vapor.
The bottle in your hand, however, is a master-grade distillation.
It requires at least five and a half stirs to activate.”
Hearing this, Linus stirred the liquid another two times.
Sure enough, a faint warmth radiated through the glass.
He proceeded to the next step, asking, “So, to determine if this step is complete, one must rely on the vibration felt through the liquid during the stirring process rather than simply counting the rotations?”
“Potions speak, boy, provided you know how to listen.” Snape stepped closer to Linus, his cold gaze resting on the simmering, purplish-blue liquid in the beaker.
He paused, clearly unaccustomed to offering what was likely one of the few compliments of his life.
“For your age, it was passable.”
“I’m flattered, Professor,” Linus said modestly.
“I do not agree with Dumbledore’s assertion that you require remedial sessions with me to correct your obstinate temperament.”
“Oh?
Is that how the Headmaster views me in private?” Linus asked with a smile.
“Therefore, if you were to take the initiative and inform the Headmaster that you wish to drop your weekend Potions lessons, it would be beneficial for both of us.” Snape’s dark, empty eyes bored into Linus’s black ones.
“Professor,” Linus said, setting down his pewter cauldron and giving a polite bow.
“I am deeply grateful for your willingness to teach me Potions, and I appreciate your advice.
But, as you know, I am an orphan.
I need a source of income.
I believe that once I achieve some competence, brewing and selling potions would be an excellent option.
Otherwise, I won’t even be able to afford a Christmas present for you.”
Linus straightened up.
“Furthermore, while I may indeed lack high-level talent in this field, I genuinely find everything I learn in this lab to be fascinating—even if catching up to your standards is an incredibly daunting task.”
Linus’s gaze was bright and resolute as he looked at Snape.
“There’s a saying I quite like: ‘Pursue even if your body trembles, and challenge with a reverent heart.’ Perhaps the things that demand our absolute utmost are the very things we are meant to pursue in life.
Perhaps those seemingly insurmountable peaks are precisely the paths we must forge.”
Snape offered no further commentary for the remainder of the lesson.
But just before Linus left, he tossed a small pouch to him.
Linus opened it.
Inside were two Gold Galleons.
“Professor, I don’t understand,” Linus said, bewildered.
“A student’s acceptable work can be sold, under my name.
The potions you have brewed over the past few weeks are worth roughly that amount,” Snape explained coldly, his back turned to him.
“But I also ruined quite a few batches and wasted a lot of ingredients,” Linus pointed out.
“Those are reasonable overhead costs in the course of instruction.
The Board of Governors will absorb the losses,” Snape said with an impatient wave, dismissing him.
Linus was temporarily speechless.
He bowed to the professor once more and quickly exited the dungeon classroom.