Ariana was locked in detention, just as she had hoped, accompanied by a grand bonus prize of ten points deducted from Gryffindor.
No matter—a mere ten points!
If she answered just one question a day for one point, she would earn it back in two weeks.
Gryffindor may have lost points, but it gained *her*!
Ariana remained cool and composed, flashing her small white teeth in anticipation of her main course—a one-on-one Q&A session with Professor Snape…
or rather, serving detention with Professor Snape.
*Heehee.* *Heh.* Snape offered a bloodcurdling grin to the girl practically radiating eagerness, coldly announcing that her detention would consist of helping Hagrid grow pumpkins.
He added that since she was so adept at Transfiguration, enlarging pumpkins ought to be child’s play for her.
Ariana tucked her small white teeth away.
*Not heehee.* Wait, what did making pumpkins bigger have to do with Transfiguration?
Wasn’t that a matter of fertilizer?
Then Ariana laid eyes on Hagrid’s monstrously giant pumpkins.
Oh, right!
This was the wizarding world!
In an instant, Ariana was consumed with passion for growing pumpkins.
What a useful spell!
She was going to haul ten of these massive pumpkins back with her—that would be enough to feed the entire orphanage pumpkin meals for a whole month!
Although she wasn’t allowed to use magic in front of Muggles or expose the existence of the wizarding world, couldn’t she just chop the pumpkins into unrecognizable chunks before giving them to the kids?
Or she could simply commandeer the kitchen and kick everyone out while cooking.
And if they grew suspicious, she could just claim she stole them from the school kitchen…
Wait, she could actually steal food from the school kitchen and bring it back!
Ariana suddenly felt her mind open up to a whole new world of possibilities.
She hurriedly jotted down this spark of inspiration, then continued to indulge in her daydream: When everyone got tired of giant pumpkins, she could switch to giant potatoes, giant yams, giant winter melons…
and then switch back again!
She barely dared to imagine how much money that would save!
Learning magic really was wonderful.
Ariana’s eyes sparkled, and she rubbed her hands together in excitement.
“Oh, little Ari, are ya hungry?” Hagrid brought over a huge plate of rock cakes, setting them down enthusiastically in front of her.
Even though Ariana had been sent here as punishment, the young witch was lively and sharp.
Not only was she meticulous with her work, but she also proactively asked how to do things better.
Even when facing fermented, foul-smelling fertilizer, she didn’t show the slightest hint of disgust or hesitation.
Most importantly, she wasn’t afraid of him at all!
Hagrid took a great liking to the young witch.
So much so that even though Ariana had been sent here for hard labor, she was now reclining comfortably in the rocking chair in Hagrid’s hut, swinging her feet back and forth as the chair rocked.
Meanwhile, Hagrid sat on a small stool opposite her, warmly pouring her a cup of tea.
“Wow!
Thank you, Hagrid!” Ariana reached out with both hands to take the cup, then poked the rock-hard pastry with great curiosity before taking a big bite.
“Ouch!” She felt as though she had bitten straight into a boulder, sending a ringing shockwave through her skull.
“What’s wrong?
Doesn’t taste good?” Hagrid rubbed his hands together anxiously.
Ariana forced a painful smile.
“No, I just accidentally bumped my teeth.” She looked down at the rock cake in her hand, which had suffered nothing more than a superficial scratch.
Refusing to yield, she licked her sharp little canine tooth.
“I don’t believe there’s anything in this world I can’t eat!” She opened her mouth wide!
*CRACK!* A corner of the granite-hard cake vanished, leaving behind two crisp rows of tooth marks.
“A bit hard,” Ariana chewed, the veins on her forehead bulging, taking quite a while before she finally managed to swallow it down.
“But it tastes pretty good!
Are there raisins inside?
I really like them—can I dip it in some sugar, Hagrid?” “‘Course ya can!” Hagrid clattered around, bringing over several jars and bottles.
“The brown bottle is honey, the black one is white sugar, the crock is butter, and that one’s cream.
Dip whatever ya like, little Ari!” Ariana divided the corner-less rock cake into several sections, spreading a small, even layer of each condiment onto the different areas, then nibbled her way around in circles.
She chewed with loud crunches, the veins on her forehead twitching rhythmically.
But as she kept gnawing, the cake didn’t seem quite so hard to chew anymore.
Ariana flexed her slightly sore jaw muscles.
*Hmph, as if there was anything she couldn’t eat!* Her teeth must have been unprepared and slack just now.
Now that they were honed, wasn’t it easy?
“Hagrid, how do you make your rock cakes?
I want to make some for my family to try.” Ariana had never encountered a pastry that fit her needs so perfectly.
Earlier, she had considered bringing giant vegetables back to the orphanage, but because of the International Statute of Secrecy, she would have to chop them into unidentifiable pieces before presenting them.
However, chopped vegetables wouldn’t keep long, which meant once she returned to Hogwarts, she wouldn’t be able to use magic to falsify the books anymore.
But this granite-like cake clearly had an incredible shelf life!
Besides, since it was handmade, any unusual size could easily be explained away—she would just tell Mrs.
Brown and the others that a single cake was meant to feed an entire year group.
Could Mrs.
Brown and the staff really track her all the way to Hogwarts to verify it?
It was also the first time Hagrid had met someone who appreciated his baking so much.
His curly beard vibrated with excitement as he declared grandly, “I’ll just pack ya a whole bunch!
I’ve got loads of ’em here!
Eat up!” Ariana had to repeatedly emphasize that she couldn’t return until Christmas before the overly enthusiastic Hagrid reluctantly put down the massive burlap sack he had shaken open.
Ariana felt her days becoming more and more fulfilling.
During the summer break, she could only memorize books aimlessly every day, occasionally tinkering with one or two spells from the text.
When term first started, her routine only expanded to reviewing a couple of learned spells and completing homework—her workload was still light, leaving her with plenty of spare time every day.
Later, she discovered the proper way to use the library.
Aside from providing free parchment and ink for assignments, it contained countless books detailing various spells, theoretical principles, methods for crafting magical items, and more!
To think she had previously treated it merely as an assignment reference station—what a waste!
Now, every day she got up early to exercise and review all the spells she currently possessed, skimmed and organized her material before classes, reviewed and summarized after classes, went to the library to read and write essays, checked out a spellbook or two to practice down by the Black Lake, visited Hagrid to learn pumpkin cultivation, carved intricate designs onto walnuts and pumpkins, set up her own cauldron in the dungeons to practice, and knocked on Professor Snape’s door with her best work to request an evaluation…
extremely fulfilling.
She thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of knowledge and skills gradually accumulating within her.
Well, that last activity was admittedly a bit unpredictable.
Opening that door could trigger a variety of outcomes: passive-aggressive mockery paired with commentary, nitpicking criticism, or being told she had too much free time and ordered to prep potion ingredients.
However, her questions were almost always resolved, extending even beyond Potions.
When she asked about Transfiguration or charm-related matters, Snape would utter sharp sarcasms like, “If you still recall that I am your Potions master,” but ultimately, he would still give her the answer.
And his explanations were remarkably detailed and rich—far superior to the tiny snippets she spent half a day digging out of library books.
So Ariana didn’t feel insulted at all; she felt Snape was simply a man with a sharp tongue and a soft heart.
A harsh tone didn’t matter.
For a teacher who was a harsh critic with a tender heart, immense competence, and a willingness to provide guidance, she was willing to be endlessly forgiving—in fact, after listening to him for a while, she even thought Snape’s insults had a certain artistic flair to them.
She had been taking the narrow path before.
If she wanted to ask a question, why hadn’t she just knocked on his door directly?
Why be so obsessed with getting detention from Snape?
That required doing labor for him.
Although she was still occasionally grabbed to do labor now, she treated it as free practice for prepping potion ingredients.
The materials were free, and she would sometimes steal—er, borrow—a little bit of processed ingredients back as her hard-earned compensation.
Gross as those things looked, they were actually quite expensive.
A single bezoar cost ten Galleons, a small jar of leech juice was seven Galleons, a small bottle of pufferfish eyes was five Galleons…
Every time she pocketed a tiny bit, it translated into pure wealth.
Snape made her work for free; she was simply paying herself a wage through her own ingenuity.
The size of her paycheck depended entirely on how focused Snape was on any given day.
When Snape was in a good mood, he would occasionally offer tips on ingredient preparation—like how crushing a Sopophorous bean with the flat side of a silver dagger yielded far more juice.
Inspired by this, Ariana actively explored new techniques whenever she was hauled in to work.
When harvesting black beetle eyes, the traditional method relied on tweezers, but that easily crushed the eyes.
Ariana transformed a match into a miniature ear-scoop; it worked surprisingly well, scooping them out clean and whole every time.
Of course, her experiments weren’t always successful.
Many times, she tried various methods only to waste materials, coming to realize that there was a reason certain traditional methods had been handed down since ancient times.
As for the wasted ingredients, she considered them noble sacrifices for the cause of Potions research—it wasn’t her money paying for them anyway.
Ariana was entirely unbothered.
She was just a little dunderhead whose brain was filled with Bubotuber pus—or so Snape called her.
But since he dared to hand potion materials over to a little dunderhead, she believed he was already prepared for the materials to be wasted by one.
And to her surprise, while Snape would hurl sneers at her during her tinkering—and transform into an absolute master of snark whenever she failed—he never threw her out while she was working, nor did he stop her hand from reaching for the next batch of materials.
Didn’t that mean he was implicitly encouraging her?
Ariana thought with supreme confidence.
So despite Snape’s caustic words, sharp expressions, and dark complexion, Ariana found herself liking the professor even more.