Late at night, in the dim corridors of Hogwarts, hurried footsteps echoed.
Snape had just finished guiding the sixth-year students in the N.E.W.T. Potions course and was rushing back to his office. As the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, his responsibilities were endless. Teaching students of all year levels alone consumed much of his time. On top of that, he had to mentor a few particularly promising students. And when factoring in the time needed to prepare and sort ingredients for class, there was barely any time left for his own interests in advanced potion research.
As for basic tasks like washing his hair? Those had to be pushed even further down the list.
"Damn it," Snape muttered under his breath. "The Flooberworm mucus is nearly gone. Several classes need it tomorrow. I'll have to process some more tonight…"
He frowned, clearly irritated.
Then he stopped walking.
He suddenly remembered that he had assigned Robert a task—processing the Flooberworms. Had the boy managed to complete it?
Snape turned toward the Potions classroom, harboring a sliver of expectation. The task had been heavy and particularly revolting—Flooberworms were slimy, tedious to handle, and could cause intense itching if not managed properly. Robert might very well have snuck off when no one was looking. If so, Snape would have a perfectly valid reason to deduct points from Hufflepuff—and even Professor Sprout wouldn't be able to object.
Thinking of this, he increased his pace.
But as he neared the classroom, he noticed something odd. The room was still lit.
Light poured softly from underneath the door, casting a faint shadow.
Snape took a deep breath. A thought stirred in his mind.
"No… could it be? Robert Sprout is still processing Flooberworms at this hour?"
He immediately shook his head, dismissing the idea.
Impossible.
"He's probably just slacking off," Snape told himself firmly. "He probably heard me coming and is now pretending to work to get some sympathy."
He let out a cold snort, already feeling like he had seen through the boy's tricks.
Snape pushed open the classroom door and strode inside.
In just a few steps, he stood by the Flooberworm basket and snapped, "Robert Sprout, didn't I ask you to process the Flooberworms? Why are you sweeping the floor?!"
To his surprise, Robert turned around and beamed with joy.
"Professor Snape! You're finally here," Robert said earnestly. "I actually wanted to process a few more baskets of Flooberworms, but I finished them all. Since there was nothing else to do, I figured I'd clean the classroom."
As he spoke, Robert added eagerly, "Professor, do you have more baskets for me to process?"
Snape froze.
For a moment, his brain simply couldn't register what he was hearing.
All of them—finished?
That was an entire basket of Flooberworms. The task was repulsive, time-consuming, and physically irritating. Could a student really complete that in a single night—and with enthusiasm?
Snape looked toward the basket. Bottles filled with processed mucus gleamed under the lamplight.
His pupils contracted slightly.
It wasn't just that Robert had finished the work. The quality of the mucus was unexpectedly high—far better than he'd anticipated.
Had this boy truly processed each worm carefully, with full attention?
Snape opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.
His original plan had been to catch Robert slacking and deduct house points. But now?
That would seem unfair.
Should he tell Robert that his help was no longer needed? That he would find someone more qualified?
Snape wavered.
There were plenty of older students who were more skilled in potion-making. But would any of them willingly do something as unpleasant as squeezing Flooberworms?
Unlikely.
And definitely not with the same level of care Robert had shown.
A new idea gradually formed in Snape's mind.
"I'll just let him continue… yes, let him keep doing this for a few more days."
"Surely he won't be able to maintain this effort for long."
"When he burns out, I'll have good reason to dismiss him."
Composing himself, Snape said coolly, "Your work is barely passable. Quite rough, in fact. Watch carefully—this is how Flooberworms should be processed."
He brought out another basket and demonstrated the technique.
His movements were fluid and precise. With just a light twist, he extracted a clear, thick stream of mucus from a worm. The quality of the result was several grades above what Robert had produced.
Robert's eyes lit up in admiration.
Snape really was a Potions Master. His magical prowess was remarkable, but in potion-making, he was unrivaled. No wonder both Dumbledore and even Voldemort had valued his abilities.
The demonstration was more than just instructive—it was inspiring.
As Robert watched, a faint glow shimmered in his system interface—[Magic Sense Enhancement] showed a subtle yet visible acceleration.
His heart swelled with satisfaction.
If he could keep up his routine—trimming brooms, processing potion ingredients under Snape's guidance, and collecting rewards from the Goldfish Vine—then the silver-level upgrade for [Magic Sense Enhancement] was not far off.
And with it would come a broad improvement in his overall magical abilities.
Filled with motivation, Robert dived into processing the next basket.
Snape, meanwhile, returned to his office. With today's routine chores delegated, he found himself with rare free time. For once, he could focus on high-level potion research without interruption.
His mood slightly lifted.
As for finding a reason to deduct points from Hufflepuff? That thought slipped quietly into the background.
"Tomorrow," he muttered to himself.
"If Robert messes up tomorrow, I'll deduct points."
The next day, Snape examined the freshly delivered batch of mucus.
The quality had improved again—ever so subtly, but clearly.
This batch would last him two whole weeks.
He narrowed his eyes, briefly satisfied, but didn't show it. Instead, he wordlessly handed over a large basket of porcupine quills.
"Finish these quickly," he said flatly.
Now, he would have more than three uninterrupted hours tonight for research.
And if Robert slipped up...
"Then I'll deduct points," he thought again.
The third day, the fourth day...
Days passed.
A week went by without Snape even realizing it.
Somehow, he had grown used to Robert handling the tedious ingredient prep. It gave him precious time to think, plan, and dive into his research without distraction.
On Friday, as he reviewed his schedule, a realization hit him—he hadn't deducted a single point from Hufflepuff all week. Slytherin remained behind in the House Cup.
But a moment later, he consoled himself.
"Next week," he muttered.
"Definitely next week. After Robert processes next week's ingredients this weekend, I'll find a good reason."
Just then, a leave request arrived from Robert.
Snape took a sharp breath. Surprise flickered across his usually stoic face. His tone rose.
"What?"
"You want to take a day off?"
He schooled his expression back to neutrality. "Reason," he asked coldly.
Robert bowed slightly in apology.
"Professor, the exclusive spell that Professor Flitwick developed for me—it's finally completed. This spell is extremely important to me, so I'll need to be absent for today."
Snape stared at Robert for a long moment, then turned and walked away without a word, leaving only a cold, dismissive sound behind.
"Hmph."
As he walked, disdain flickered in his heart.
"An exclusive spell developed in just a week? What could be so special about it that this Hufflepuff is so excited?"
"Hmph, developing spells… I was doing that when I was still a student."
"If he begged me, maybe I'd create a stronger one for him."
"No insight. No taste."
"Fool."
Unaware of Snape's inner grumbling, Robert walked briskly toward Professor Flitwick's office.
His eyes gleamed with hope and excitement.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Ben479