Alexander Whitmore shook like a leaf, his mouth agape, unable to utter a word.
He was only a third-year.
When he entered Hogwarts, Snape wasn’t the Potions professor yet.
Being young, his family hadn’t told him much about Snape’s standing among the Death Eaters.
As a result, he had always assumed Snape wasn’t particularly powerful in combat and relied solely on his Potions skills to stand among the Death Eaters.
His usual politeness at school was merely standard respect for a teacher; he had no idea how terrifying the man truly was.
But now, Professor Snape’s fierce shout detonated in his ears, the magic pressure making his head ring, while the terrifying aura crushed him so hard he could barely breathe.
He had never experienced such dread from any elder in his family.
The only comparable memory was when his father failed a task and was punished by Bellatrix Lestrange.
The moment Bellatrix Apparated into his home that day, Alexander had felt a terror nearly identical to what he felt right now.
Alexander dared not imagine what awaited him—this was someone on par with that madwoman Bellatrix.
Thank goodness Hogwarts professors weren’t allowed to harm students.
Thank goodness Professor Snape merely felt humiliated and wasn’t fond of torturing people.
Snape repeated Alexander’s punishment once more.
Ignoring the furious glares directed at Alexander from the crowd below, Professor Snape delivered his concluding remarks.
“Whether some of you like it or not, the Dark Lord is dead.
Dumbledore currently holds the absolute upper hand.
If you still wish to preserve what little honor Slytherin has left, settle down and focus on your studies.
Do not attempt to trick the greatest white wizard of the century with your clumsy schemes.”
“Slytherins are ambitious, shrewd, and capable of assessing the situation.
I hope you understand what I am saying.”
“Every single one of you will copy the Slytherin Code five times.
Have them turned in to me by Saturday through your respective year prefects.”
With those final words, Professor Snape swept his robes around him and departed the common room like a gust of wind, leaving the remaining students feeling as though they had just survived a catastrophe.
Jerael had no idea what misfortune Alexander would suffer in Slytherin House for losing points right at the start of the term and dragging everyone down with him.
In any case, Jerael’s next few days went quite smoothly.
Every morning, he woke up early to go for a run outside the castle.
Morning runs were pleasant with no onlookers around.
During his breaks, he picked wild flowers by the path to weave into a small wreath.
Passing by Hagrid’s hut, he quietly placed it on the head of Blossom, who was lying by the door.
Blossom wagged her tail and let out a low grunt in thanks. The source of this chapter is g.com.
At breakfast, he received a letter from Grandpa Cora brought back by his owl, Fury.
Jerael happily accepted his grandfather’s warm concern.
In Herbology that morning, he performed exceptionally well, earning extra house points from Professor Sprout.
In the afternoon, his Hufflepuff friends informed him that they had tried a simulated brewing session the day before.
Although the magical ingredients created via Transfiguration were somewhat different from real ones, it was more than enough practice for first-years.
“Jim and I can both complete the entire brewing process for the Cure for Boils independently now!
A few upperclassmen practiced with us too, and their potion-brewing got a lot smoother.
In Potions class this morning, none of them exploded their cauldrons and they all managed to get a passing grade!
They were thrilled!” Thomas babbled on enthusiastically as usual.
Jerael was genuinely happy for them.
When he had returned to his common room yesterday, he noticed that Ravenclaw had also formed a simulated brewing group.
However, because Ravenclaw students rarely made low-level mistakes in Potions, most of the participants were fifth-years and above who needed extra practice to prepare for their exams this year or next.
Potions ingredients were expensive, and outside of class, they usually couldn’t afford the waste.
Only a few Muggle-born lowerclassmen who were unfamiliar with Potions joined in.
Naturally, the older students discussed advanced concepts among themselves while guiding the younger ones.
What Jerael appreciated most was that these study groups didn’t have fixed memberships.
They simply set specific time slots where accomplished student wizards took turns on duty to provide the necessary transfigured materials for the group.
If you needed it, you came; if you didn’t, you didn’t have to.
This free and uninhibited learning style made Jerael marvel.
It was no wonder the emblem of Ravenclaw was an eagle—they soared freely through the skies of knowledge, and once they spotted a target they liked, they swooped down with speed, precision, and fierce determination, perfectly mirroring their fanatical dedication to learning.
Since Hufflepuffs expressed gratitude by coming over to hang out warmly with you, Jerael decided to invite them to the library to do homework together—combining education with recreation.
He was sure they’d grow to love doing homework.
Under the pressure of Jerael’s pen flying across parchment to lengthen his essay, the Hufflepuff first-years completed their assignments with tears in their eyes.
When Prefect Holloway of Hufflepuff arrived at the library, he clapped Jerael on the shoulder with surprise and relief, encouraging the younger students with sincere praise.
The Hufflepuff first-years suddenly felt that doing homework wasn’t so terrible after all.
In Astronomy class that evening, Jerael’s anticipation vanished as the lesson progressed.
He discovered a subject for which he had no sense of direction whatsoever.
He could barely identify the Big Dipper—how could he possibly expect to learn divination and prophecy through the stars?
Heartbroken, Jerael activated his Byakugan, hoping to read the astronomical stars with it, only to be utterly rejected by the celestial bodies. This story is hosted at g.com.
He dropped his head onto the table in the Ravenclaw Common Room with a painful thud.
Prefect Sinclair looked at him in total confusion.
“Is Astronomy really that hard?
Isn’t it just a bit of this, a bit of that, then this and that, and boom—you get the divination result?”
Jerael felt unintentionally victimized by the top student’s casual genius and resolved to cut ties with Prefect Sinclair for ten hours (which conveniently lasted until he woke up the next morning).
Thursday had no Potions classes.
Instead, it was filled with subjects friendly to Jerael: Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Jerael demonstrated his excellent magical talent once again, earning house points from every professor.
In the joint classes with Slytherin, the Slytherin students didn’t cause trouble, nor did they display the restless agitation of the past few days.
Jerael guessed they had probably received a stern scolding from Professor Snape.
Getting caught red-handed while doing something bad, and then complaining without any evidence—that was far too Gryffindor of them.
Professor Snape would never tolerate it.
Friday morning happened to be free of classes.
Jerael happily carried a stack of books to the library.
Knowing he had no classes over the weekend and Snape hadn’t scheduled any detention for him then, he was determined to finish his homework early so he could spend the weekend practicing Ninjutsu in the Room of Requirement.
In Friday afternoon’s Herbology class, Jerael spent the entire period digging in the dirt, mainly to dig a suitable little nest for a finicky Nest Grass.
Nest Grass didn’t have strict growing environment requirements, but it was extremely demanding about terrain.
It used its root tendrils to communicate its mood, guiding the grower to provide the exact nest it desired.
Typically, growers had to dig multiple nests, which was why it was called Nest Grass.
It was used in brewing scar-removal potions.
The nest couldn’t be too big, too small, too deep, or too shallow.
Certain eccentric Nest Grasses would even want the young wizard to dig a two-bedroom, one-living-room setup complete with two bathrooms—metaphorically speaking, of course.
In reality, it meant two large nests, one medium nest, and two small nests.
Digging these nests was no easy task.
Left, right, front, back, depth, height, size, and shape—Nest Grass had its own specific demands for every detail.
Jerael threw a sympathetic glance at Jack, whose two-bedroom, one-living-room setup had barely reached the foundation stage.
Fortunately, Jerael’s own Nest Grass was low-maintenance, requiring only a one-bedroom, one-living-room setup with a single bathroom.
But when the plant’s root tendrils wrapped around his hand, why did he get the feeling that his Nest Grass wanted a gigantic nest?
What was he supposed to call this—a swimming pool?
Thus, when Jack finally finished digging his two-bedroom, one-living-room setup with two bathrooms and turned around, he found Jerael digging an enormous pit.
The tables had turned, and now it was Jack’s turn to pity Jerael.