"When handling slugs with antennae, you need to pay attention to the distribution of their mucus. Try to choose the moment when they secrete the most mucus.
If you see them stretching out their antennae to touch the table, don't hesitate—that's the best time for simmering… A small reminder: when you see little bubbles rising in the cauldron, you can stop simmering… Very good! Mr. Dickinson, that was handled perfectly. Oh! Mr. Green, perhaps you simmered a bit too long. Remember? You can stop when small bubbles appear in the cauldron…"
Inside the greenhouse.
The twelve cauldrons set up were bubbling and steaming, making the pumpkin-shaped plants sway slightly.
Professor Sprout had just praised Bruce and hurried over to Sean's side to help him put the escaping slugs back on the table.
She smiled gently and said,
"Mr. Green, don't let the slugs escape next time."
Sean was indeed a bit flustered, trying to manage two cauldrons at once.
Bruce, on the other hand, handled his tasks with ease.
As for Professor Sprout, she could simultaneously simmer seven cauldrons while still having ample time to guide Sean.
"Observe the mucus, wait for the bubbles…"
Sean muttered the professor's instructions to himself while working carefully.
As time passed, Sean's simmering gradually became more skilled, though he still fumbled occasionally.
The liquid in the cauldrons slowly turned dark green. Professor Sprout approached, and Sean gripped his spoon tightly, waiting for her evaluation.
He felt nervous—not only because of his mediocre talent but also because of the cost of materials. Slugs with antennae weren't cheap; in Diagon Alley, each one cost a gold Galleon per jar.
The prices of magical ingredients were terrifyingly high, making Sean realize one thing: potions had to be highly profitable, or the ingredients would be unaffordable.
Soon, Professor Sprout gave her evaluation:
"Mr. Green, your handling is satisfactory."
Sean let out a small sigh of relief. Although Professor Sprout allowed them to use the ingredients freely, he couldn't keep wasting them.
Once he got into the rhythm, it wasn't long before Sean finished handling the slugs with antennae.
The three of them poured the simmered liquid into glass bottles and selected the slugs that had produced enough mucus, placing them in a large jar.
Professor Sprout explained that this selection would help young witches and wizards increase their chances of successfully brewing the Scabious Potion.
The simmered slugs would serve as examples for demonstration and assist Professor Snape with some preliminary tasks.
While selecting porcupine quills, Professor Sprout shared some surprising news with Sean.
"Yes, children, herbs and potions always rely on each other. Whenever it's harvest season, Severus also comes to the greenhouse."
Sean imagined Professor Snape holding a hoe, then went back to selecting porcupine quills.
"Porcupine quills are about three inches long and as thick as two slug antennae…"
Exiting the greenhouse, Sean reviewed the key points of handling and recorded them all on the parchment he carried with him.
So far, he had a deep understanding of the four ingredients for the Scabious Potion: dried nettle, porcupine quills, poisonous snake fangs, and slugs with antennae.
This meant the first step of his plan was complete.
Thinking of this, Sean's eyes grew even brighter.
"I say, Sean, we've already left the greenhouse; no need to record it all again."
Bruce crossed his arms and, a little helplessly, pulled Sean along, preventing him from bumping into the standing suits of armor.
On the armor stand, a lady in ceremonial robes covered her mouth to hide a smile, leaving the knight opposite her staring blankly.
The clock struck six.
The breeze was gentle, and the sunlight slanted along the path. Sean heard the Hogwarts bell chime.
Bruce stopped walking.
In the corridor beside the greenhouse, Leon held a book, his golden hair glinting in the sunlight, while Pister held a potted plant, its tender leaves swaying in the wind.
The two of them turned their gaze toward Bruce.
Bruce grinned:
"These two…"
He looked back to say goodbye to Sean,
but before he could speak, a piece of preserved jackfruit was placed in his hand.
"Exchanging snacks—Hufflepuff tradition, Bruce."
He froze for a moment as Sean cheerfully walked away.
"Is he really not a Hufflepuff?"
Leon closed his book.
"Maybe the Sorting Hat made a mistake," Bruce said.
He carefully pocketed the snack,
then suddenly shouted, "Hey!" and, with arms outstretched, scooped Leon and Pister up.
His strong arms wrapped around their necks like a warm lock, holding the three heads tightly together.
"Flaw!"
He laughed loudly.
"Idiot."
Leon stumbled slightly.
Pister carefully shielded the potted plant.
…
Since borrowing enough books from the library yesterday, Sean's only problem was not having enough time to complete his homework.
By eight o'clock, the Hogwarts library would close, and by the time Sean finished dinner, it was already half past six.
So Sean didn't choose to go to the library; he went straight back to the Ravenclaw Tower.
The Ravenclaw double dormitory had desks, thoughtfully equipped with floating candles—
yes, the same kind as in the Great Hall.
It was clearly a good place to finish homework.
Ravenclaw's wisdom, Sean thought.
"Sean, are you heading back to the tower?"
At the entrance of the Great Hall, Sean ran into Michael, who was playing Wizard's Chess.
"Yeah."
Sean nodded.
"Oh! Wait for me!"
Michael quickly made a move, swinging his stick to knock the opponent's last piece flying.
"A narrow victory."
He smiled, put the chess pieces away, and ran toward Sean.
The stairs back to Ravenclaw Tower were still terrifyingly long.
Michael panted as he climbed, complaining along the way:
"The welcome speech said Ravenclaw helps young witches and wizards seeking knowledge, climbing the steps of wisdom,
but it didn't say these steps are this long!"
He looked up at the endless stairs ahead.
"Merlin… am I going to climb these stairs for seven years?"
Before he could finish, a strong gust of wind blew past.
It was a higher-year Ravenclaw flying into the tower on a broomstick,
drawing gasps from the nearby younger students.
"Cool!"
Michael stared straight at the elegant wizard, his heart racing.
Step by step, the stairs finally grew shorter, and Sean and Michael at last arrived.
"…Many may think the glory days of the Chudley Cannons are over, but everyone knows, it will shine like yesterday again…"
At that moment, Michael's complaints had turned into longing for Quidditch.
He was about to continue recounting the glorious history of the Chudley Cannons,
when he noticed the young wizard wobbling beside him.
"Sean!"