“A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat,” Snape said.
“It has powerful antidotal properties.” “As for monkshood and wolfsbane…” “They are the same plant.” “Both are simply different names for aconite.” As he spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Harry Potter.
“Do you understand now?” “Yes, sir.” “Then write it down.” Snape turned away dismissively and wrote the steps and precautions for brewing a Cure for Boils on the blackboard.
He then began walking around the classroom, supervising the students’ work.
It was a very simple potion.
Even first-years were expected to brew it successfully.
Even so, plenty of students earned sharp criticism.
Gryffindor, in particular, escaped none of it.
Wade was paired with Daphne.
This time, he intended to perform well in Potions.
Thanks to the Clown Potion’s precise control over his body, he measured every ingredient with near-perfect accuracy.
He crushed the snake fangs into a fine powder.
The horned slugs were boiled for exactly the right amount of time.
When pink steam finally rose from their cauldron, it signaled a successful brew.
“Excellent.” “Mr.
Moreya and Miss Greengrass have produced a flawless potion.” Snape offered praise without hesitation.
“Slytherin earns ten points.” Hiss—!
Suddenly, the sound of escaping gas echoed through the classroom.
Acidic green smoke rapidly spread through the air.
At that instant, a vivid image flashed through Wade’s mind.
Without thinking, he reacted purely on instinct.
He sprang to his feet, grabbed Daphne’s wrist, and pulled her toward Draco’s side.
1 Crash!
A heartbeat later, the cauldron behind them overturned.
Bright green potion splashed across the floor, desks, and students’ robes, burning black holes wherever it landed.
“Ahhh!” Neville Longbottom cried out in pain.
The potion had soaked into his skin.
Large, swollen boils erupted across his face, arms, and legs.
Everyone hurried away, afraid of being splashed.
Watching Neville’s miserable condition, Wade sighed.
“If this potion isn’t brewed properly…” “…touching it will give you boils instead of curing them.” “Idiot!” Snape barked.
With a flick of his wand, every drop of the spilled potion vanished.
“You added the porcupine quills before removing the cauldron from the fire.” “Gryffindor loses five points.” He then walked over to Wade and Daphne’s cauldron.
Pouring some of their finished potion into a glass bottle, he handed it to the tearful Neville.
As soon as Neville drank it, the boils began shrinking before everyone’s eyes.
Although he was still in pain, his condition improved dramatically.
“You should consider yourself fortunate, Mr.
Longbottom.” “Fortunately for you…” “Someone in this classroom brewed the potion correctly.” “Otherwise, you would be spending tonight in the Hospital Wing.” “T-Thank you.” Neville, still pale, sincerely thanked Wade and Daphne.
“Just be more careful next time.” “What are the rest of you standing around for?” Snape’s sharp gaze swept across the room.
It lingered especially on Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
“Have you finished your own potions?” The students immediately hurried back to their seats and focused on their cauldrons.
“You can let go now.” Daphne smiled as she raised the hand Wade was still holding.
He quickly released it.
“Sorry.” “It was an emergency.” Daphne gave a soft snort.
With slightly reddened ears, she returned to her seat and pretended to read her textbook, though it was obvious she wasn’t paying much attention.
Over the following days, the first-years gradually became acquainted with each of Hogwarts’ professors, discovering the unique appeal of every subject.
Astronomy was a profound discipline.
At night, students climbed the Astronomy Tower to observe the heavens through telescopes, learning the names and movements of stars, planets, and constellations, as well as the magical knowledge associated with them.
2 For Wade, it was by far the most relaxing class.
No practical spellcasting was required.
And as a professional diviner, although he rarely relied on astrology or star charts, his understanding of the night sky was no less extensive than Professor Aurora Sinistra’s.
Her homework felt about as difficult as single-digit arithmetic.
One glance at the questions was enough to know the answers.
Even so, Wade deliberately held himself back.
Standing out was the last thing he wanted.
Herbology focused on magical plants and fungi.
The class was taught by Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House.
Lessons took place inside the greenhouses behind the castle, where students learned how to cultivate magical plants while studying their properties and uses.
Wade paid particular attention during Herbology.
Aside from the Forbidden Forest, the Hogwarts greenhouses were one of only two places where he might eventually find ingredients needed for the Diviner Pathway potions.
1 Unfortunately, as a first-year, he had no access to the truly rare specimens.
For now, he could only begin with the basics.
Professor Binns, who taught History of Magic, was a ghost.
He was also, in Wade’s opinion, Hogwarts’ only professor who never needed a salary.
Professor Binns possessed extensive historical knowledge.
Sadly…
His lectures were painfully dull.
Listening to him naturally induced sleep.
Professor Filius Flitwick taught Charms.
Half goblin by blood, he was so short that he had to stand atop a stack of books just to reach the lectern.
Appearances, however, were deceiving.
Professor Flitwick was a true master of Charms, a former dueling champion, and the Head of Ravenclaw House.
Unlike Professor McGonagall’s strict demeanor or Professor Snape’s perpetual coldness, Flitwick treated every student kindly.
He patiently corrected wand movements and casting techniques.
Naturally…
He also appreciated talented students.
Hermione excelled in Charms.
Her outstanding performance earned Gryffindor quite a few House points.
The class Wade remained most wary of, however, was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Professor Quirrell still wore his thick purple turban and maintained his timid, nervous manner throughout every lesson.
Besides awkwardly introducing dangerous magical creatures and explaining how to deal with them…
He also seemed unusually interested in the first-years themselves.
He even asked several students where they lived.
His explanation?
He claimed he wanted to know what dangerous creatures might exist near their homes.
Whether anyone believed that explanation was another matter.
Quirrell questioned Wade as well.
But after learning that Wade had grown up in the Muggle world, his interest noticeably diminished.
Background check…
The phrase suddenly surfaced in Wade’s mind.
Or rather…
It wasn’t Quirrell.
It was Voldemort.
Just as Wade had expected.
He was gathering information on every first-year.
As for why…
There was a very good chance it had something to do with the Fool.
Throughout the entire lesson, Wade relied on the Clown Potion to control every aspect of himself.
His facial expressions.
His body language.
Even the tone of his voice.
On the surface, he looked no different from an average student.
In reality…
He felt as though he were sitting on needles.
Like a bone was lodged in his throat.
Like countless eyes were fixed upon his back.
Yet under that constant pressure, he made an unexpected discovery.
The Clown Potion had digested a little more.
Walking out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Wade couldn’t help laughing at the irony.
“I never imagined Voldemort’s class would actually help digest my potion.” At this rate…
Even if he did nothing else to advance his acting, another two or three months of Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons alone would probably be enough to fully digest the potion.
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