When Ariana reopened her eyes, she thought Snape had accidentally choked her to death—was he really *that* angry?
Her eyes scanned her surroundings: An empty room with neat rows of small beds fitted with cold metal railings and stark white sheets.
The overly quiet atmosphere lent the place an extra chill.
Is this…
the morgue?
Ariana yanked back the blanket and scrambled to get out of bed—*Oh gosh, I need to tell them I’m alive before they cancel my citizenship!
God forbid they broke my wand in half!* “Ah, Miss Ritchie, you’re awake,” Madam Pomfrey said, walking over with a tray of breakfast.
“You seem to have recovered quite well.
Finish your breakfast and you may leave.” It took Ariana a moment to realize this was the matron of the Hospital Wing.
She absentmindedly swallowed a couple of bites of porridge as instructed, then hastily set her spoon down.
“Madam Pomfrey, my wand…” “Severus has it.
You are in no condition to perform magic right now.” Ariana blinked in confusion, gazing at Madam Pomfrey with pure innocence.
Madam Pomfrey looked utterly vexed.
“I simply cannot believe Hogwarts allowed a mountain troll inside, let alone let a first-year come face-to-face with it…
Still, you were fortunate enough to escape uninjured.
You merely drained your magical core completely.” “Young witches and wizards your age are still in a growth phase for magical reserves.
Draining your magic so thoroughly could impair your future magical development.” Ariana’s face instantly went taut with worry.
“You must take Magic Stabilizing Draught for a solid week.
Until your magic fully stabilizes, you shouldn’t cast any spells at all.
But young wizards your age—” Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, meeting Ariana’s piteous gaze with a stern look, though her expression softened just a notch.
“—still require adult supervision.” “As it happens, you will need Professor Snape to brew the rest of your week’s supply of Stabilizing Draught.
Until he deems you fully recovered, your wand will remain in his safekeeping.” — Ariana stood meekly in the dungeons, twisting her hands together nervously, keeping her head down in the most well-behaved manner possible.
The dungeon office was quiet.
Pale blue flames licked the bottom of a cauldron, making the potion inside bubble softly.
Snape flicked his wand expressionlessly, reducing the flame to a whisper of fire.
Taking a phial from his workbench, he let a single drop of blue liquid fall into the cauldron.
The brew surged with a vivid brightness, turning a soft tangerine hue shimmering with silver rings.
Snape maintained his usual cold, tight-lipped demeanor, yet Ariana inexplicably sensed a hint of smug satisfaction in him.
She couldn’t help but curl her lips into a faint smile.
He paused in thought, dropping a few finely chopped leaves she couldn’t identify into the pot.
Holding the stirring rod with long, slender fingers, he guided the liquid through several measured, unhurried rotations.
Silver, silk-like steam billowed from the cauldron, thick enough to seem almost tangible in the dim dungeon air.
Ariana was nearly spellbound.
Snape’s foul personality aside, he was undoubtedly a supreme master of Potions.
No one—not even Neville, who didn’t possess a single cell of potion-making talent—could witness Snape’s fluid execution, absolute mastery, and unquestionable confidence without feeling awed.
“Perhaps Miss Ritchie, fresh off her grand victory over a mountain troll, believes her boundless glory entitles her to treat her Potions Master as a house-elf putting on a show?” The silky, harsh voice sliced through Ariana’s awe like a knife, jolting her back to reality.
Snape was staring down at her coldly.
The cauldron was empty, and three phials sat on the desk.
Not quite fully processed, Ariana turned her wide, round eyes up to him like a bewildered puppy.
Snape sneered.
“What, did our valiant Miss Ritchie lose her brilliant brain in battle, leaving her unable to even drink medicine without someone feeding it to her?
Do you require *my* humble self to undertake such a grand task?” Though his tone was mocking, his expression made it glaringly obvious that if Ariana dared say yes, he would swap the Stabilizing Draught for poison and force it down her throat.
“N-No, not at all, Professor!” Ariana scrambled forward.
Reaching for a phial, she paused mid-motion and subconsciously glanced back at Snape.
Snape sat down behind his desk with an impatient scoff.
“What are you dallying for?
Worried I’ve poisoned your potion?” “No, Professor, I trust completely that you would never harm me.” As if to prove her words, she popped the stopper off with a *snap* and downed the liquid in one gulp.
“I wasn’t scared silly—it’s just that watching you brew potions felt like watching an all-powerful deity in control of everything.
I was hypnotized.” She looked up at Snape with eyes full of worship, but before she could gauge his reaction—*BOOM!!!* It was like rain pouring from the sky, instantly soaking into parched earth.
Desperate roots stretched out ferociously to devour every drop, stirring up violent waves.
*BOOM!!!* An invisible yet devastating shockwave erupted from Ariana, sweeping through the enclosed dungeon office like a violent tornado.
The floor-to-ceiling cabinet against the wall shattered with a deafening blast.
Snape, who had been leaning back in his chair, bolted up.
A sharp jab of pain flared from the injury on his leg, but he couldn’t care less.
His prized collection of potion specimens and rare ingredients tumbled down like bowling pins.
With a swift flick of his wand, he froze them mid-air.
But before he could even sigh with relief, the frantic, human-shaped Mandrake standing nearby trembled again.
A whirlwind of sharp air blades ripped through the room, pulverizing every glass jar into splinters with a brutal crunch.
Glass fragments, flying preserving fluids, and shredded potion ingredients scattered wildly through the air like a grotesque shower, drenching Snape completely from head to toe.
“Ritchie!
*Stop it!*” Snape roared, veins bulging and throbbing on his temple beneath his soaked, dark hair.
*HIS!
PRIZED!
COLLECTION!* Ariana was immersed in a mystical trance.
Her magic surged like underground spring water, flooding every corner of her body.
With just a twitch of her finger, immense power gathered at her fingertips.
Her mind felt like a golden vortex.
Everything around her seemed edged in gilded light, rising and falling in rhythm with her breathing before slowly spinning around her.
Her soul floated up into bliss.
That was her final thought before losing consciousness.
In her dazed stupor, she could have sworn she saw Snape’s eternally frozen expression drain of all color.
*See?
I told you Professor Snape cares about me.* *I really am a student loved by teachers—even an ill-tempered, sharp-tongued professor like Snape!* Smug and satisfied, Ariana blacked out.