“What?
You turned Malfoy’s head into a pincushion *today*?” Ron wailed in anguish.
“The exact morning we gave up?!” “What?
You have detention with Snape tonight?” Harry gasped in alarm.
“With *Snape*?!” Ariana served herself a roast chicken wing and nodded brightly.
“Yep, yep!” Harry looked as though he couldn’t eat another bite.
His bright green eyes were full of anguish and dread, as if watching a comrade march off to her execution.
Ron finally found his voice too.
“No, wait—girl, how are you still smiling?” Ariana took a cheerful, deep gulp of pumpkin juice.
“Getting to go to Professor Snape’s office one-on-one—why wouldn’t I smile?” Ron went so far as to set down his beloved chicken drumstick.
Wiping his greasy hands carelessly on the tablecloth, he sat up straight and asked her from the bottom of his heart, “Girl, tell me.
Which word in that sentence is supposed to be good news?” “Every single one.” Ariana raised her goblet of pumpkin juice and lightly tapped it against Ron’s head.
“Cheers!” Ron’s mouth fell open, looking as though that light tap had rendered him utterly brain-damaged.
*Thank goodness his family has seven kids,* Ariana thought without a shred of remorse.
“Alright, I’m going to hurry back and finish today’s work early.
I don’t want mundane chores ruining my mood when the time comes.” She threw on her schoolbag and bade farewell to the two stunned boys.
After a long silence, Ron sucked in a sharp breath, breaking free from his petrified state.
“Did she study her brain into mush?
I told you studying like that every day wasn’t healthy!” “‘When the time comes’—what time?!
Why did she sound like she’s actually looking forward to it?” Harry tried his best to offer an explanation.
“Maybe she’s so scared she’s brainwashing herself…
You know, sometimes when I really don’t want to go to Potions class, I brainwash myself into thinking I love Potions.” His voice trailed off, his shoulders slumping.
Then he remembered the cheerful, sparkling eyes Ariana had turned on him.
A light blush touched his cheeks as he straightened his back, stiffening his neck with an expression that insisted, *Yes, that’s definitely it.* “Mate,” Ron said, looking like he might throw up, “it’s okay to fool other people, but don’t fool yourself.” — Malfoy had only said detention was tonight, without specifying the hour.
Ariana decided on her own to head down to the dungeons right after dinner.
She strode briskly along the familiar corridor.
September was still on the warmer side, but the underground classrooms were delightfully cool.
Ariana often snuck down here at midday for a quick nap, so she knew the way by heart.
Passing an empty classroom, she spotted Peeves noisily tearing apart a broken stool.
In high spirits, Ariana greeted him of her own accord: “Having fun?
You’re so full of energy, Peeves.
You really are a cute ghost.” The ruined stool dropped from Peeves’s hands with a loud thud.
He stared at the broken wood in utter shock, wondering if he had suffered a lapse of memory—like maybe he had smashed this stool over this schoolgirl’s head earlier and knocked her senseless.
*Ghosts aren’t supposed to have bad memories, are they?
Binns is still teaching History of Magic, after all.* “Keep up the good work!
I won’t disturb you.
Goodbye, Peeves!” Ariana skipped happily away.
“A student’s gone mad!” Peeves bellowed, diving into the corridor.
“A first-year student!
Just got here and already mad!” “He’s just a bit touched in the head,” Ariana murmured with a sigh and a shake of her head.
“Good thing he’s a ghost—he’ll never have to look for a job.” She seemed to have arrived a bit early.
Snape didn’t appear to be in his office; after knocking a few times to no answer, Ariana leaned against the door and squatted down, waiting obediently.
Big shots were always busy, which she understood completely.
Just a few days ago, she’d seen a newly published paper by Snape in a Potions journal.
It was brilliantly written—probably.
She hadn’t understood a word, so she was just guessing.
Suddenly, the door behind her was yanked open.
Lacking any support, Ariana tumbled backward and rolled inside like a ball.
Snape’s quill slashed a heavy, dark *P* onto the parchment before him.
What had Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry become—a menagerie?
At the meeting he had to endure that old bumblebee, after the meeting a white hedgehog had charged in, and now this evening…
what was this rolling across his floor?
A red gnome?
No, it was a human being!
“Miss Ritchie.
For a genius who, after merely one month of Transfiguration, can apply it so impeccably to her classmate, your method of expressing discontent is truly eye-opening to your Potions master.” Snape whipped his quill across another paper, scrawling a heavy *T*.
Ariana, having just executed three full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree rolls, gazed up at him blankly, little dancing stars holding hands and pirouetting inside her vision.
*Has she rolled herself stupid?* Snape pressed his lips into a thin, tight line.
“Get up!” he barked harshly.
“Sort out the rotten Flobberworms from that bucket, then collect the mucus from the rest.” Before the golden stars in front of Ariana’s eyes had fully vanished, her body had already obediently stood up and walked over to the large bucket.
She looked down at the bucket of slimy, squirming caterpillars, which looked almost like a single congealed mass.
“Professor Snape, may I…?” “No,” Snape said soft and fast, as if he had been waiting for the question.
“This is your punishment.
No gloves.” Ariana watched as a flicker of genuine delight surfaced on Snape’s habitually gloomy face, as though torturing students and watching them tremble in sheer terror was his favorite pastime.
For some reason, despite how terrifying the sight ought to have been, Ariana actually found it a little cute.
It was like watching a fierce tiger swishing its tail with satisfaction after successfully scaring a small child.
“Of course,” she replied, her tone turning cheerful as well.
“I was just asking if I could wash my hands first.
I pressed them against the floor several times just now, and I’m worried any dust on them might contaminate the mucus and ruin your potion.” The wicked pleasure vanished instantly from Snape’s face.
He stared at her, utterly expressionless.
Ariana gazed back with an innocent, dutiful expression.
“Naturally.” She could hear a faint grinding of teeth in Snape’s voice.
With a flick of Snape’s wand, a thin stream of water trickled from the mouth of a small snake sculpture in the corner—it turned out to be a tiny sink.
“You really have exquisite taste,” Ariana praised, looking around while washing her hands thoroughly under the stream.
It was an office fitting for a Potions Master—soaring wooden shelves stretched all the way to the ceiling, each row packed tightly with countless glass jars.
Colorful potions stood in neat lines; some were pure liquids, while others held preserved animal and plant specimens floating inside.
Ariana narrowed her eyes to examine them, spotting a tangle that looked like twisted rat tails—she guessed it was Gillyweed.
“Miss Ritchie, I am not one of those soft-hearted professors.
Insincere flattery will not excuse you from your punishment,” Snape said icily.
“I assume you are here for detention, not invited to critique my office?” “Now!
Shut your mouth!
Get to work!” Ariana tilted her face up, made a gesture as if zipping her mouth shut, and scampered over to the bucket of Flobberworms.
Though it was a bit disgusting, once she got the hang of it, the task was fairly easy.
Ariana pinched her thumb and forefinger together a few times, stretching and squeezing the green mucus.
*Eww, looks like snot.* She flicked the snot into a wide-mouthed jar.
Ariana quickly got into a groove—a skill honed during her days doing chores at the orphanage.
Truth be told, it was tedious work—monotonous, mechanical repetition that seemed to drag time out indefinitely.
Still, it was bearable.
Once again, her thanks went out to the orphanage for building her character.
Just as the bucket of Flobberworms was nearly empty, Snape spoke out of nowhere: “What are the uses of Flobberworm mucus?” Strictly speaking, this wasn’t first-year material; Flobberworms weren’t even covered until third-year Care of Magical Creatures.
But while researching Horned Slugs to figure out how to refine her Cure for Boils, Ariana had happened upon their distant relative—the Flobberworm—and memorized the entry.
“It can be used in Sleeping Draughts, Herbicide Potions, and Cures for Boils.
That version of the Cure for Boils seems a bit more complex than the one we’re learning now, adding Shrake spines, ginger root, and other ingredients.
Am I correct, Professor?” Snape gave neither confirmation nor denial.
*No scolding means I’m right.* Ariana puffed out her non-existent chest, feeling like the most brilliant student in the world.
As if reading her mind, Snape leveled a cold gaze at her the very next second.
“What?
Does our talented Miss Ritchie find the first-year curriculum too rudimentary, leaving her impatient to set her sights higher?” Ariana’s eyes widened.
*Wait, where did that come from?* *I’m innocent!* Seemingly satisfied at leaving her speechless, Snape said softly, “Once you finish with the Flobberworms, fetch a set of ingredients from the cupboard and brew a Cure for Boils.” She understood.
A surprise quiz, was it?
She wasn’t afraid!
She remembered every ingredient and every step!
Besides, she had practiced extensively after class, only moving on to the next chapter after successfully brewing a textbook-perfect potion three times in a row!
With heads-up confidence, Ariana gathered the ingredients from the cupboard and chose a cauldron that looked shiny, new, and expensive.
She usually worked with her battered second-hand cauldron.
Given this rare opportunity, she wanted to see what made these high-end cauldrons so special.
Before lighting the fire, she felt the base and walls of the cauldron.
Nothing seemed particularly special—it was just slightly thicker than hers.
That was probably just because it was brand new and hadn’t suffered much wear yet; give it two years and it would look the same.
Because of the thicker walls, Ariana extended the preheating time slightly, and during the simmering stage, she observed the potion’s color more carefully before taking the next step.
As a result, some of her timings didn’t match the textbook precisely.
Snape, who had just fiercely marked a *P* on an essay, raised his head and witnessed this.
Though he said nothing, the deep furrow between his brows relaxed slightly.
Ariana produced a flawless Cure for Boils, perfectly matching the description in the textbook.
Excitedly, she bottled it and presented it to Snape, looking for all the world like a cat bringing its kill to its human.
Though she didn’t utter a word, her meaning was crystal clear.
“So, Miss Ritchie—who knows full well not to blindly follow the textbook—believes this is the absolute best state for a Cure for Boils?” “What?” Ariana paused.
When the implication hit her, she bubbled over with excitement.
“Professor, do you mean…?” “Your detention ends here.
Now, return to your dormitory,” Snape interrupted coldly.
“Wait, Professor—can’t we do five more minutes of detention—hey—” Ariana was tossed out into the corridor.
She stomped her foot in frustration—though she still didn’t dare kick open the heavy, closed door.
There was no Potions class tomorrow.
*Hmph!
Did he really think she would just leave it at that?* Sure enough, the next day, a blubbering Malfoy (hedgehog edition) stormed into Snape’s office once more.
“Pro—” He swallowed the rest of his word under Snape’s stern glare.
Ariana stepped in right behind him, her hands tucked neatly into the sleeves of her robes, her eyes sparkling brightly.
Malfoy burst into wails again, like a bullied puppy finding a backer, eagerly turning around to bark and howl at his foe: “Professor, look at her—she’s too much!
She even followed me here!
Professor!
She’s such a bully!
Professor, put her in detention right now!” Facing two pairs of eyes overflowing with equal anticipation, Snape almost laughed out of pure rage.