Chapter 201: The Potions Master’s Test
The three walked along the path from the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, Harry and Ron taking turns carrying small pebbles, their steps slow and leisurely.
Hermione was frowning in distress, realizing she was interested in all the electives, but the course schedule had time conflicts, which was unreasonable—why couldn’t the professors make full use of free time and hold classes on weekends and evenings too?
“Harry, Ron, what else do you want to take?” Hermione pondered for a long time without a result and could only refer to her friends’ opinions.
They had just discussed it: Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies, chosen for the sake of the professors teaching them. Harry and Ron thought for a moment—only two electives was indeed a bit few; they wouldn’t get many certificates in the Wizarding Level Exam.
“Let’s add Divination.” Ron said he had heard from older students that Ancient Runes was a prerequisite for Alchemy and very difficult, while Arithmancy had a lot of homework.
“Divination.”
Harry nodded along; Professor Trelawney of Divination was famous, and her after-class homework and final examination were easy to fake—as long as you could make up dreadful prophecies, you could get high marks.
“Divination is an important branch of prophecy magic; it is indeed very important.”
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, falling into hesitation again.
The three walked forward with heads down in silence; after entering the Forbidden Forest, Harry and Ron kicked away pebbles and headed straight for Hagrid’s hut.
“You two lazy pests! All you think about all day is eating and playing!” Someone snarled viciously by the fence.
Harry and Ron looked up in alarm; ahead, not far away, the gamekeeper was carrying a water kettle high up and pouring out diluted insecticide potion by proportion, sprinkling it on the pumpkin vines in the soil.
A hound was cheering on the side nearby; catching their scent as they approached, it lifted its head excitedly and barked loudly at them: “Woof! Woof!”
Harry and Ron realized Hagrid was cursing the slugs on the pumpkin vines—they had made homes on the immature pumpkins, infuriating the gamekeeper. The two breathed a sigh of relief upon learning the truth.
“So he was cursing the slugs…”
“Hagrid, Fang!”
Hermione waved to them and only noticed something on Fang’s neck when she got closer: silver-white slender scales wrapped around it once, the young snake’s tail curled on Fang, its head resting on the dog’s head, lazily greeting them.
“Woof~”
“Yurm is here too?” Hermione realized, “So does that mean Professor Levent is nearby?”
“Haha! What a coincidence?”
Hagrid walked up to them, set down the water kettle, and wiped his hands on his mole-skin coat. “Melvin arrived only half an hour before you; he came with Snape and they went deeper into the forest to test potions.”
“Snape too?” Harry and Ron were startled.
“My insecticide was brewed by him; it works great, just smells a bit bad.” Hagrid pointed to the water kettle and fanned his huge hand-like palm at them.
The three then caught a whiff of manure in the air, their faces paling—they had thought it was Hagrid’s homemade fertilizer, but it turned out to be the smell of insecticide, rich and clearly nutritious for plants.
“Testing potions—why haven’t we seen the old bat come to the Forbidden Forest to test potions before!” Ron, never one to hesitate in assuming the worst of Snape, widened his eyes and let his imagination run wild. “He must know Professor Levent is on good terms with you, so he tricked Professor Levent into leading him into the Forbidden Forest to cause trouble!”
This was prejudice against Snape, but Harry and Hermione didn’t refute it—Professor Snape’s demeanor didn’t seem like that of a good person.
Harry quickly asked: “Hagrid, do you know which way they went?”
Hagrid frowned: “Don’t talk nonsense; Snape is a professor after all, Dumbledore trusts him, he wouldn’t do anything to harm the school, and besides, Melvin is there supervising.”
Harry and the others knew he was stubborn and couldn’t be persuaded in a short time, so the three turned their gazes to Fang.
The dog and snake looked up at them, tilting their heads, blinking, with puzzled expressions.
“No, students can’t go into the Forbidden Forest!”
“We’re going to find the professors; we have questions to ask!”
“…”
Hagrid couldn’t persuade them either, so he tossed the water kettle aside, fuming, and accompanied them.
Four wizards and two animals strolled along the forest path, the young snake riding on the hound’s head as they went; Fang bounced along, sniffing here and there, occasionally lifting his head to woof twice, as if introducing things to Yurm.
Yurm responded indirectly a few times, in a thin, delicate voice.
Passing moss-covered stumps, leaves rustling in the breeze, distant trickling water sounds—they followed Fang deeper into the Forbidden Forest, where dense foliage blocked the sky, the forest atmosphere turning darkly excellent, the temperature dropping, damp mist blowing through, slightly chilly and wet.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione inexplicably felt tense, constantly twisting their heads to look around.
About half an hour later, Fang suddenly stopped in front of a lush oak tree. Through the tangled branches, they could see an open space ahead: green lawn, reddish-brown leaves, clawing shrubbery, and two tall figures in black robes.
Animal carcasses lay in a row before them.
Gray-furred wild rabbits, fork-antlered stags, plump-feathered woodpeckers, even underage Acromantulas—all lay motionless on the ground, crimson blood on the shrub branches shocking to the eye.
A damp cold breeze blew, blood scent lingering at their noses, leaves rustling like the low sobs of living creatures.
“This… this…” Hermione was stunned, Ron’s face went pale, and Harry and Hagrid’s expressions turned instantly serious.
“Is… is it a massacre?” Ron’s voice trembled.
“Shh!”
Hagrid covered his mouth; Harry and Hermione simultaneously retreated, stiffly hiding behind the tree, hearts pounding, not knowing when they had all held their breath, afraid to make a sound.
Yurm couldn’t speak and could only look up at them, vertical-pupiled eyes showing human-like confusion.
…
“Use it sparingly; only a pint left.”
“This potion works well; an ounce is enough for ordinary animals—a pint could be used on at least twenty.”
The two conversed while inspecting the animals on the ground, treating them as nothing in their words, their practiced movements revealing a certain indifference to life that sent chills down the spine.
The experiment ahead had gone on for an unknown time, fur and feathers scattered everywhere, blood splattered on the lawn and treetops; the two professors held wands, glass bottles floating in midair containing some milky-white potion.
“Ordinary European wild rabbit, head contusion—probably hit a stump.” Snape’s voice echoed through the woods with cold amusement. “Utterly, irredeemably stupid.”
“Why mock a rabbit? It can’t understand you.”
Melvin didn’t look up, using the Levitation Charm to draw out a strand of potion, pouring it into the rabbit’s mouth and incidentally lifting the petrification on it.
Stiff muscles gradually relaxed, the daze in the rabbit’s eyes slowly faded, ears twitching upright bit by bit; the rabbit, regaining mobility, immediately struggled, but Snape didn’t let it go, grabbing the scruff and lifting it to closely observe the head wound.
“This rabbit can’t understand, but some stupid rabbits will.” Snape tossed the rabbit aside casually, letting it burrow into the shrub gaps. “Half-inch scar, healed in two minutes—not very effective on external injuries, not as good as Skele-Gro.”
…
“So it’s just a potions experiment.” Hermione patted her chest.
Harry and Ron also breathed a sigh of relief—professors companions abusing animals to death was really hard to accept.
“I told you, they’re professors.” Hagrid scratched his head, starting to worry again. “How should I explain this to Melvin later?”
…
“Let’s try this stag; it dueled another stag, multiple abrasions all over, and one antler broken off.”
“Total of fourteen abrasions, healed in three minutes, three leaving scars; the broken antler didn’t regrow, probably because blood couldn’t reach it.”
As the petrification on the stag’s body lifted, this irritable stag, defeated in the duel, immediately struggled and resisted, thrashing its head repeatedly, trying to attack Snape with its half-broken antler—but its legs were still fixed in place, limiting its range; it couldn’t even touch Snape’s robe.
“Stupid stag—”
“Pfft!”
“…”
Melvin watched the scene and fell silent.
Before the potions professor finished speaking, the enraged stag flung its head at him, spitting a stream of saliva.
Snape, once a senior Death Eater with ample duelling experience, reacted quickly; at the moment he sensed the attack, he raised his hand, trying to block with his wide sleeve—avoiding a face-washing disaster, but still getting water stains on his robes.
Though a herbivore, the wild stag was still a wild animal without regular grooming habits; its saliva carried an indescribable stench.
Snape narrowed his eyes at the stag, cheeks bulging slightly; after a silent moment, he said coldly: “The antidote effect hasn’t been tested yet—use it for the experiment.”
“You’re the Potions Master; you decide.”
With Melvin’s agreement, Snape acted immediately, summoning the underage Acromantula sprawled on the ground—smaller than the stag, bound and petrified all over, only its eight eyes darting in fear.
He pried open its front chelicerae, forcing open the maw to expose the venomous fangs, then stabbed them into the stag’s back.
The stag bellowed in pain, but with limbs and body fixed, even thrashing its head and spraying saliva couldn’t break free.
Venom quickly spread through the bloodstream, toxins taking effect as dark bruising spread, intense agony making the stag unable to endure, emitting shrill howls.
The watching Melvin and the little wizards hiding behind the tree all felt some pity.
Snape waited quietly by the side until the stag was near fainting from pain, then fed milky-white potion into its mouth, considerately applying a strand externally.
Soft white light emanated, gradually expelling the venom from the stag’s body and repairing damage—but the process was unpleasant, painful and itchy with burning heat; the stag kept whimpering piteously, sounding very pitiful.
“Antidote effect surpasses most antidotes; the principle seems to directly dispel malign magic power?” Melvin observed keenly.
Acromantula venom was very expensive because it contained magical creatures’ magic power; conventional antidotes struggled to act directly, but the milky-white potion from the Golden Goblet targeted foreign magic power, neutralizing quickly.
“Mm…”
Snape responded indifferently. “The potion can directly remove malign magic power; let me test injuries from Dark Magic.”
Clearly personal vengeance, right?
Dignified Professor Snape ambushed by a stag and seen by students—natural to be furious.
Melvin understood.
【Shedding the Shadow】
An invisible blade whistled across the stag’s body, leaving a shallow wound no bigger than a thumb; for a mature wild animal’s vitality, it should stop bleeding quickly, but a strand of malign magic power lingered, preventing healing and causing intense pain.
Blood gushed across the stag’s back, dyeing the tan fur crimson; having just escaped death, it was so weak it nearly collapsed.
Now feeling life ebbing away again, its eyes filled with fear of death; it twisted to look at the wound on its back, shaking its head at the two wizards, howls much weaker.
Another few ounces of potion poured in, and the wound on the stag’s back gradually healed.
Snape scrutinized the wound; the Shedding the Shadow curse was his own Dark Magic invention—wounds wouldn’t heal naturally, Skele-Gro struggled to treat them; without a counter-spell, the victim bled to death.
This milky-white potion could directly dispel Dark Magic and heal wounds; just this trait alone qualified its inventor wizard for a First Class Order of Merlin.
“Can it treat other Dark Magic injuries? Unforgivable Curses?” A glint flickered in Snape’s eyes.
“…”
This stag didn’t deserve this.
Melvin tapped the stag’s head lightly with his wand, lifting the petrification.
The stag could hardly believe it; struggling to look back and seeing the black-robed demon motionless, it didn’t dare make a sound, silently got up from the ground, and bolted deep into the Forbidden Forest, soon vanishing behind layered branches.
Melvin sequentially freed the remaining animals, letting them flee out of sight.
The milky-white potion brewed by the Golden Goblet—its effects had basically been tested.
Treating external injuries was secondary; the key was dispelling foreign magic power.
Many spells worked through magic power; this potion solved at the root, treating many Dark Magic injuries. As for more evil Unforgivable Curses, the Killing Curse was obviously beyond saving, but the Imperius Curse and Cruciatus Curse…
Those needed stricter testing, not achievable with just a few wild animals.
Melvin shook his head and turned toward the oak behind: “The animal that offended the professor has been punished; next, the students breaking school rules.”
