Thoughts about the Half-Blood Prince's textbook flashed through Robert's mind.
Another challenge lay ahead.
Just as the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts had collected objects from over a thousand years of history, the storage cabinets in each classroom were similarly packed with textbooks and miscellaneous items left behind by students over the past century. And there wasn't just one Potions classroom—there were seven or eight scattered throughout the castle.
Although Robert knew Harry Potter had discovered the Half-Blood Prince's textbook in his sixth year in the original story, he had no idea where it had actually been located. Finding it amidst the overwhelming clutter would be no small task. It certainly wouldn't be something he could accomplish quickly.
He couldn't ask others to help either—not even his fellow Hufflepuffs. After all, how could he explain why he was looking for such a specific textbook? No, Robert had to find it on his own.
There was another complication as well.
The Potions classrooms were Snape's domain. Normally, the doors were locked tightly after class. To search them all, Robert would likely need access—and that meant getting a key from Professor Snape himself.
Just thinking about it made Robert frown. He had embarrassed Snape multiple times before, especially when he stood up to Malfoy. That alone was enough to earn Snape's ire. Getting what he wanted from Snape would be a long shot.
Still, Robert was determined. He needed that textbook. If he could master Sectumsempra early, he'd stand a better chance of surviving an encounter with Antonin Dolohov, who had escaped from Azkaban.
As luck would have it, Potions class was scheduled for that morning.
Taking a deep breath, Robert made his way toward the Potions dungeon.
Monday mornings were already miserable. Starting the week with Potions class only made things worse.
Whether they were Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, the students wore expressions of dread as they entered the classroom. And when Professor Snape swept in, his black robe billowing like the wings of a bat and his presence exuding icy disdain, no one dared say a word.
Snape's gaze traveled coldly over every student, especially the Hufflepuffs.
Seeing that none of them were late, he looked briefly disappointed. If even one Hufflepuff had arrived late, he would have had the perfect excuse to deduct House points—perhaps enough for Slytherin to overtake them in this week's ranking.
No matter. Potions class lasted all morning. He would find reasons soon enough.
"Hannah Abbott, were you even listening properly? Did I tell you to handle the ingredients like that? One point from Hufflepuff—you've wasted valuable materials!"
"Susan Bones, your cauldron work doesn't even meet basic safety standards. One point from Hufflepuff."
Snape stalked up and down the rows of Hufflepuffs, hunting for mistakes like a predator. When he reached Robert's workstation, he paused, clearly hoping to find something worth criticizing.
But even someone as meticulous and harsh as Snape had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that Robert's potion-making technique was almost perfectly textbook. It lacked creativity, perhaps, but it was precise.
Snape gave a frustrated huff and moved on, continuing to dock points from other students.
Even the Ravenclaws weren't spared his sharp tongue.
By the time the bell rang for the end of class, five points had been taken from Hufflepuff and two from Ravenclaw. The students exited the dungeon like survivors of a long battle.
Once they were safely out of Snape's earshot, their voices finally rose.
"Merlin's beard, what a dreadful way to start the week."
"Professor Snape must've spent all weekend saving up reasons to dock points."
"Is this what Gryffindors go through every week? Especially Harry?"
"Did you see the look he gave Robert? I swear, if I were Robert, I'd have dropped my cauldron from nerves."
"Huh? Speaking of—where is Robert?"
"He probably went to the Greenhouse again. Maybe he needs time to recover too."
None of them guessed the truth.
Robert hadn't left with them. He was still in the Potions dungeon.
He was standing in front of Snape's desk—making a very unexpected request.
Snape stared at him for a moment in disbelief.
"Robert Sprout… You're saying you want to volunteer to clean the Potions classroom?"
"And assist me with preparing Potions ingredients?"
Doubt flickered in his eyes. Snape was well aware of his reputation among students. Most of them ran the other way as soon as they saw him coming. What had gotten into Robert? What sort of bizarre potion had he taken?
Snape was preparing to respond with biting sarcasm—but Robert spoke first.
"Yes, Professor Severus," he said calmly. "For someone as skilled as you, spending time chopping porcupine quills or squeezing Flobberworm mucus seems like a terrible misuse of talent. I believe tasks like that are better suited to students like myself. Your time would be better spent researching or creating advanced Potions."
Snape hesitated. The venom he'd been about to unleash stalled at the back of his throat.
Surprisingly, Robert's flattery didn't feel hollow. In fact, it sounded rather… sensible.
Snape snorted, still skeptical. But he didn't dismiss the idea outright.
Dumbledore, stingy as ever, hadn't assigned him a Potions assistant. And it was annoying having to brew Toothflossing Potion for the Headmaster just because he couldn't resist sweets.
Why shouldn't someone else handle the tedious parts?
Still… Robert was a Hufflepuff.
Snape's first instinct was to reject him.
But then he smirked.
Perhaps there was another way to handle this.
If he accepted Robert's offer but made things difficult, he could both humiliate him and dock points from Hufflepuff—killing two birds with one stone.
"My standards for assistants are extremely high," he said coldly. "If you want the position, you'll have to prove yourself."
A few minutes later, Snape returned with a large basket full of wriggling Flobberworms.
"Flobberworm mucus is a thickening agent in most potions. You'll extract all of this—every drop. And it must meet my standards."
He tossed Robert a heavy iron key.
"The Potions classroom will remain locked outside of class. But this will give you access. I expect the task to be finished by tomorrow."
Snape's lips curled into a cruel smile.
"You won't be sleeping tonight, I imagine. If you fall behind, I'll make sure Hufflepuff pays dearly—even if Professor Sprout personally intervenes."
Robert didn't flinch. He accepted the key with calm hands.
Sleep deprivation?
That was nothing.
The important thing was, he now had access to the Potions classroom. With this key, he could begin searching for the Half-Blood Prince's textbook.
The hardest part was over.
"Thank you for this opportunity, Professor," Robert said sincerely.
Snape froze.
Of all the things he had expected, gratitude wasn't one of them.
He turned away abruptly and left the dungeon, his robe swishing behind him.
As he walked the cold stone halls alone, a strange feeling crept into his chest.
"He actually thinks I'm doing him a favor," Snape thought, annoyed.
"He thanked me… even though I was trying to make his life miserable."
For a moment, a rare trace of guilt stirred in Snape's heart.
"…Am I going too far?"
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